For Andy Townend’s Dark Side Thursday.
Andy has provided an outlet for our dark sides. I wrote this a few weeks ago (on a plane, of course!) but I thought it was too dark to share. I haven’t ever written anything like it. I would usually put this summary at the bottom of my post but I’ve put it at the top this time just to warn you : it’s Dark Side Thursday.
x desleyjane
Ended.
I can’t hear anything but my own gasping breath and the pounding of my feet as they hit the wet asphalt. It’s late. I don’t know what time. But it’s dark and there’s nobody around. A misty rain is falling. It hampers my progress. I just need to get away from him. I shift position to run on my toes. The movement costs me precious time but I need to be able to hear him behind me. Where is he? I dare not risk a look for fear of tripping and then it will be all over. I can hear him. Far enough behind me thanks to the blow I landed on his side. Hopefully I’ve destroyed one of his kidneys.
There’s a corner ahead. I’m hoping there’s somewhere to hide although I’m loathe to stop moving after all this time. Two weeks. He’s had me trapped there for almost two weeks, tied up so tight my ankles are throbbing even now. My right arm is hanging low and screaming in pain. As I round the corner I risk a glance behind me. He is there. He is right there. Oh god, he is terrifying!
I cry out in fright and lose my rhythm, scrambling to get away from him, tripping over some garbage on the street. Keep moving! Get up! Go! I regain my footing and lurch away across the street towards the glow of the one streetlight that is working. I can hear him moving behind me. He’s not even trying to be quiet. He knows there’s nobody here in this industrial estate. He’s done this before. He knows what he’s doing. I’m just playing mouse.
I shriek as suddenly I feel his fingers brush my shoulder. Once. Twice. And then his fingers dig into my already damaged flesh. He forces me to my knees and I’m trembling, gasping for breath, chest heaving. As he leans in close to me, the heat and stench of his breath in my face forces me to turn my head away from him. And that’s when I feel the sharp pressure against my throat. As the blade cuts into me, I scream. And he covers my mouth. I can feel my blood gushing from the wound as my vision fades and I slump to the cold wet ground.
Musings of a Frequent Flying Scientist 
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