Run

Something I wrote during a long car journey. I don't know what genre it is supposed to be in, so I put "other". It didn't fit in with anything else on the given list. So if you do know then please tell me

PS: It is rated yellow because of swear words used within, to hopefully make the anger sound a little bit more realistic? (People swear when they're angry, it's life)

PPS: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give feedback

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2. Chapter 2

My throbbing head feels like someone is trying to hammer through brain, bone, skin and whatever else from the inside. My eyes flicker open, but I can’t see anything in the darkness around. I’m lying on some sort of cold, hard floor, slightly damp and earthy. Yet as I move my hand slowly… there’s definitely some sort of rock too. But no light. Where am I?

With a sudden flash the memory floods back into my mind. Images, some vividly coloured which burn into my head like branding irons have just pressed against it on the inside; others dim and gone before I can get any focus on them, whirl around my head until they become a confusing blur of colour.

Then it stops and somehow my tired mind can make sense of them. The pounding inside my head slowly dies down. Now all that’s left is blackness and realisation. I suppose I must have collapsed and fallen asleep, but I have no real idea.

The dark reminds me of a game I used to play as a kid. Blindfold yourself and try to guess an object a friend places in your palms.

No… I will not think about... friends! Not after what Andrew did

If he didn’t die from the gunshot, I hope they kill him in the exact way they plan for me. If he wasn’t still on their side and pretending to be some sort of double-agent- type friend. Much more likely. But in particular, I remember saying ‘This is all your fault’ and the look on his face.  A black mist of doubt begins to creep into my mind, no matter how much I try to shake it off

What if he didn’t want to do it?

No. That can’t be true! They… they wouldn’t have known I was at his otherwise, right? And he would have warned me and at least I could have hidden somewhere else for a time if he cared.

He felt guilty though. When it was his turn to bring food to “the bitch” and had to wait while I ate with my hands untied, he couldn’t look at me. Then whilst re-tying my hands he did it fast and forgot to check if they were tight. They weren’t. Which is how you escaped, remember? It’s because of him you got out of there with a chance of living

He didn’t free me on purpose. He’s one of them. Not my friend, at least not any more.

Coldness closes around my heart like an iron fist, blocking any hurt or feelings of betrayal. True, I had been stupid enough to trust him, but how could I have known? There was nothing I could have done to see it coming. Nothing.

What matters is I’m safe. They’re not going to risk their lives following me down here.

I pull myself up into until I’m sitting, all sense of sleepiness gone, laughing at them. It’s almost definitely the first time they haven’t gotten their way and I savour the feeling of triumph, letting it wash away all other emotions.

I slowly run the tips of my fingers over my right ankle, wincing every time it touches one of the shallow cuts covering it. Meant more for pain rather than physical harm, the same slits litter my arms and back. But my hands go too far down my ankle; my agonized scream echoes of the hard mud-and-rock walls of this tunnel. It’s like acid burns away at every ion, every atom of my lower leg. Pain rises up my calf and spreads to my thigh like a wildfire after a particularly torrid summer. I sink to the ground and sit there in the pitch black of the darkness. Only now do I fully understand my situation. How could I have been so stupid?

I’m in a tunnel which could collapse and kill me at any second, although the rock here isn’t nearly as unstable as down there. And while it might sound like little danger, cave-ins have killed every single person who tried to explore down here from when they first stopped mining for precious metals (because too many workers were being lost), except me. But only because the few time I’ve been here I stayed near the top. I have no light to see so if I try to make it to the door, knowing my luck I will be going further down into more danger and even if I do manage to find the door I have no doubt The Gang will have left someone behind as a guard. I have neither food nor water and the mangled hole they gored into my ankle needs medical attention, or at least cleaning. I can’t tell if it’s sweat, blood or both drying thickly around the wound. Probably sweat, but I’m not too sure. The dirt from the streets and mud from the walls could mean an infection, and if it’s bad enough there’s another example of how I could die

Just as I think I’m safe, look what happens. If I stay down here, I’ll die eventually. If I try to move I’ll die whether I make it out or not.

Unless… How long would they wait outside the entrance? Long enough for me to starve or die from thirst? Could I get out and to my house unseen? If they had men there before, they won’t now. There’s no other way in or out as far as I know, and that’s more than most people.

Sudden voices outside make me jump, and I slowly raise my head to listen. But through the thick metal it’s almost impossible to make out words clearly from where I am. Cautiously, I crawl towards the sound hoping desperately I’ve made the right decision. Is it worth risking my life to hear this? Right now, I don’t care. I just want to get out of here without danger ASAP. How on earth could I have imagined this hell-hole was a safe place to be?

The side of my head presses up against a cool surface, and I stop short, twisting it slightly round so that my ear is on the other side of the door to them.

They're arguing about whether to come down here or not.

 

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