My bare feet slapped against the black pavement. My soles ached, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that I could run; as fast as I could; away, away from him.
Tears of fright streamed from eyes and flew from my cheeks to meet the cement. As scared as I was, I was worried. How was I to survive? Would he find me? These questions and more swam around my head. I pushed them away. They didn't matter either.
It seemed a bit ironic; a 13 year old girl, fleeing from a crazed murderer. Like the kind of stuff you would see in movies. But this was no movie. There was no one to yell "Cut!" and stop the scene. No, this wasn't a movie, this was real.
Lost in my thoughts, I had forgotten to watch where I was going and slammed head-first into the brick wall of a building. As I fell back, I sighed to myself, well, this is it. If I die here, at least let me be sent to heaven . . . I hit the ground, and the sky went black.
I awoke with a throbbing pain in my head. I refused to open my eyes, to see his face. Why couldn't he just kill me when I was asleep? Is that to much to ask?
"Hey? Are you okay?" A voice asked. It was too innocent to be his voice. Too worried, too soft . . . I forced my eyes open a bit. I groaned. The sun was too bright to handle.
"Are you okay?" asked the voice again. I sat up and looked around. Kneeling over me, was a boy. About 14 give or take. With cropped black hair and russet skin. I gasped.
"Is he here?" I looked around wildly, but no one was there, just me and this guy.
"Who?" he asked a concerned look in his deep brown eyes. I must of sounded like a whack-job to this dude. I took a deep breathe; might as well tell the guy. And if he thought I was a psychopath? I'll get to that later.
"I don't know his name," I murmured. "But he's after me." I looked around again; still nothing. The boy looked at me with an intrigued look. Apparently he didn't think I was crazy.
"You're being chased? Like . . . Stalked?" he asked, wide-eyed.
I'm sure this wasn't normal for him. It's wasn't normal for me either. Of course, I blamed myself for this mess. I should've listened to that speaker at school. He had told us how dangerous it was to give out personal information on the web. And what did I think? There's more than a billion people in the world, what are the chances that I get picked to be stalked, and intentionally killed, just from telling someone my name on My? I felt so stupid. Not only was I alone with some stranger, I had no food, no water, and no cell-phone. That's what I get for rushing to get away from a psycho murderer.
"Yeah," I answered, looking down at my hands which were clasped tightly in my lap. The man looked away for a second to stare across the street at a near-by ally. He looked back sharply.
"Name," he said
"What . . . ?" I asked. Apparently he wanted my name, but can you blame me? Running about a mile North from Orlando, Florida, being chased by an Internet stalker, and running head-first into a building, all while my parents were away for a day or two at some restaurant, having a date.
"Name," he said again, this time with a more serious glint in his eyes. "What's your name? Age too, if you don't mind." I had almost been murdered for giving out information on the web, and that I would more wary not to give out anything to personal to some guy I met about five minutes ago. But for some reason, I trusted him; either it was because of the concern in his voice or the worried glint in his eyes.
"Uh . . . it's Abby Peterson. I'm 13." I stated shakily. Running into a wall didn't really help that much with my tone of voice. He grunted.
"I'm Matt Clarkson, 14; but no time for introductions. C'mon, we need to get you out of here," he said. And with that, he lifted me from the ground with no problem at all, hoisted me onto his back, and began to run, full speed, down the side walk.
Author's Note: I'm not really sure if you guys will like this. It starts out like a lot of other murderous stories. Please give me feedback. If you hate it, I won't write a follow-up.
