#writbler

“AWAY FROM YOU!” Maya spits out, between heavy gasps. She can’t breathe. How long can she run? His footsteps thunder behind her. Her heart is caught in her throat, panic clawing its way out of her mouth. She has never screamed in her life, not even when he batted her out of consciousness. She won’t give him the satisfaction.

The bastard thrives on it. Her fear. Her terror. She won’t let him have it.

Her feet crunch on the gravel. In the distance she can see the parking lot. No friends in sight. Did he get them? The thought makes her heart hammer even more. It hurts. It hurts so much. It is battering against her rib cage, threatening to split open the cartilage. No, no, no.

The parking lot forks in two directions. The beach and the forest. Blue and green. Maya leaps over a couple of tousled garbage bags. Vulnerability. Maya hates that word. It is a word that she is so acquainted with, one she knows too well. Where can she hide? Hide? She doesn’t dare look back.

“Mayaaaaa…” he taunts.

She hates that he knows her name.

It is such a violation.

He turns her name into a nightmare.

Something that is hers.

Twisting it into a curse and mutilating it until a single call of her name makes her shiver.

His maniac laughter echoes and the shadow of his bat catches on the brick wall.

Forest. She makes her decision. Maya reaches the parking lot, diving into the greenery. The pavement is hot on her feet. The grass soft on her swift boots. He is still hot on her trail. Don’t look back. Crashing through the forest, she can hear him. “Maya! Going into the big scary forest are you? Come on, we’re having fun!” He cackles.

Her lungs are screaming for air. Anything at all. Gulping down oxygen slows her down. She settles with desperate quick gasps as she tumbles through the brush. Her hands push through the thickets, making a path. There is no time to cover tracks. She has to go. GET AWAY.

Maya bites her tongue, iron on her tongue. She doesn’t dare answer him.

Get away, get away.

Her feet, her legs, are burning away, searing away skin. It is all too much for one person. Her lungs claw for air. She is out of shape. A useless lump of flesh held together by instinct. Slipping on wet leaves, she hops over a root and dives under a fallen log.

Moss and rot press in at all sides, dampness underneath her bloodied hands and she sits, perfectly still. Creepy crawlies linger, but nothing can compare to the thing outside. And suddenly, the forest becomes quieter. Deadlier. She wants to breathe, to gulp down air so desperately, a fish out of water. Maya dares to suck down a breath. Everything is far too loud.

Crunch.

He is here.

From the underbrush, she can see a silhouette. Nearby. Can he hear me? Her limbs are frozen in fear. She presses her mouth into her sleeve, hoping whatever breaths she has would be muffled. She is being too loud. Too loud. She is dead. Or worse.

The silhouette moves silently. Watching for movement. Her foot shifts. The silhouette’s pale face snaps up. Shit. Fuck. She wants to scream. Sometimes she wishes she was dead. Cold as a corpse. Perfect at hiding. It is an absurd thought.

“Mayaaaa…” the childish sing song in his voice makes her twinge. He pauses. Listening. For her. It carries that brutal weapon. The bat. Still. She knows its harsh blow and it longs to collide with her.

She holds her breath. Praying to things she never believed.

Then a chuckle. “Oh Maya, don’t you know I detest hide and seek?” The silhouette’s loafers inch closer, toeing the murky pond water. She breathes into her sleeve, biting into it, suppressing a scream. Too much. Too much. Go away. She squeezes her eyes tight.

A crunch. She peeks. He twists on his heel. And she has to muffle a sigh of relief. “I'll find you, Maya. And you’ll regret it.” A promise which makes her stomach twist. Tears tug at her eyes but she doesn't let them fall. She will cry later. When it is right. When it is safe.

———————————————————————

He is gone. She has no idea if it has been 5 minutes or five days but he vanishes. How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? Days? Her mind is a haze. After an eternity of listening, a thing she has grown used to, he is out of sight. Not here. She is alive.

Crawling out of her safety, she rests a thankful hand on the bark. A silent thanks to its safety and comfort. Her hands are still shaky and her knees unstable. Crack. One in her back. She hasn’t moved in hours. At least.