and my t-shirt clung to me, damp with sweat.
I cleared my mind of my current surroundings, and the trees, already shedding their leaves in preparation for winter, disappeared. The thick green grass beneath my feet ceased to exist. Instead, my mind cycled through images from my memories like a slideshow.
I saw myself positioned between two handrails, the effort of lifting one foot excruciating. I felt the muscles in my leg tense, readying themselves for what they knew was next, but next never came. I ran harder. I saw the hallway of Crane’s basement and the man with the syringe. I felt the chemicals heavy in my veins. I ran harder. I saw Donavon cowering in the corner of a room, hands over his head, pleading with me to stop. Electricity crackled in my fingers and toes. I ran harder. Mac squatting next to my hospital bed, our eyes locked as he told me what I already knew: Ian Crane killed my parents. I ran harder. I saw myself crouched in a closet, peering through the wooden slats at the men in black mercilessly murdering my parents. I ran harder. I saw the hotel room, windows blown out, bodies of faceless men scattered around me, enclosing me in a circle; all dead. I ran harder.
The Instructor’s dorm was in sight. My lungs were on fire, every breath felt like a knife plunging deeper in to the flesh between my ribs. My legs screamed in protest as I pushed them each additional step. The memories had been replaced by white electrical snow accompanied by an increasing buzzing sound. The weight of my sweat soaked clothing was threatening to drag me under the tidal wave of exhaustion I was riding. Salt stung my eyes as I attempted to wipe it away with the back of my dirty, slippery forearm. I was mere feet from the back entrance when my legs finally won the battle with my mind and gave out completely.
I wrapped my arms around my torso, trying to get my breathing under control. My head spun so fast that I wasn’t entirely sure which way was up anymore. I fell over, my cheek pressed against the cold grass, letting it draw the heat from my body. The world began to right itself and I took a couple of deep breaths for good measure before pushing myself up on all fours.
I felt his presence before he spoke. “Go away, Donavon,” I said quietly, hoping that I sounded threatening.
“You don’t look so good, Tals,” he replied, sounding like he actually cared. “You need help getting up?”
“I said, go away.” This time the undertones in my voice were definitely closer to pleading than threatening. Donavon came up behind me. He hesitated, but I knew that his intention was to guide me to my feet. As soon as he made his move, I summoned the last of my strength and kicked my right leg straight up and back. My foot made solid contact with his chest, and he lost his balance, stumbling backward.
“Suit yourself,” he mumbled as he walked away. I smiled. I might be totally out of shape, but Donavon would definitely have a bruise. Sometimes, it’s the little things in life that are most gratifying. My satisfaction was short lived; I could still feel Donavon’s presence when I began vomiting.
I was so busy regurgitating the previous day’s breakfast that I didn’t even notice Janet until I felt her hand on my back. I tensed.
“What happened to you?” Janet asked worriedly. I relaxed at the sound of her voice.
“Oh, you know, I just went for a little run.” I smiled weakly up at her, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“You’re soaked through. How far is a little run?” she asked alarmed. Her hand gently stroked my tangled curls.
“I left at sunrise,” I replied sheepishly. Janet grumbled, then wrapped her arm around my waist and carefully lifted me to my feet. I felt a little weak in the knees, but managed to stay upright with her help. I leaned against her gratefully, letting her support most of my weight.
“You might want to have somebody clean that up.” I nodded to the grass.
“I’ll get right
I cleared my mind of my current surroundings, and the trees, already shedding their leaves in preparation for winter, disappeared. The thick green grass beneath my feet ceased to exist. Instead, my mind cycled through images from my memories like a slideshow.
I saw myself positioned between two handrails, the effort of lifting one foot excruciating. I felt the muscles in my leg tense, readying themselves for what they knew was next, but next never came. I ran harder. I saw the hallway of Crane’s basement and the man with the syringe. I felt the chemicals heavy in my veins. I ran harder. I saw Donavon cowering in the corner of a room, hands over his head, pleading with me to stop. Electricity crackled in my fingers and toes. I ran harder. Mac squatting next to my hospital bed, our eyes locked as he told me what I already knew: Ian Crane killed my parents. I ran harder. I saw myself crouched in a closet, peering through the wooden slats at the men in black mercilessly murdering my parents. I ran harder. I saw the hotel room, windows blown out, bodies of faceless men scattered around me, enclosing me in a circle; all dead. I ran harder.
The Instructor’s dorm was in sight. My lungs were on fire, every breath felt like a knife plunging deeper in to the flesh between my ribs. My legs screamed in protest as I pushed them each additional step. The memories had been replaced by white electrical snow accompanied by an increasing buzzing sound. The weight of my sweat soaked clothing was threatening to drag me under the tidal wave of exhaustion I was riding. Salt stung my eyes as I attempted to wipe it away with the back of my dirty, slippery forearm. I was mere feet from the back entrance when my legs finally won the battle with my mind and gave out completely.
I wrapped my arms around my torso, trying to get my breathing under control. My head spun so fast that I wasn’t entirely sure which way was up anymore. I fell over, my cheek pressed against the cold grass, letting it draw the heat from my body. The world began to right itself and I took a couple of deep breaths for good measure before pushing myself up on all fours.
I felt his presence before he spoke. “Go away, Donavon,” I said quietly, hoping that I sounded threatening.
“You don’t look so good, Tals,” he replied, sounding like he actually cared. “You need help getting up?”
“I said, go away.” This time the undertones in my voice were definitely closer to pleading than threatening. Donavon came up behind me. He hesitated, but I knew that his intention was to guide me to my feet. As soon as he made his move, I summoned the last of my strength and kicked my right leg straight up and back. My foot made solid contact with his chest, and he lost his balance, stumbling backward.
“Suit yourself,” he mumbled as he walked away. I smiled. I might be totally out of shape, but Donavon would definitely have a bruise. Sometimes, it’s the little things in life that are most gratifying. My satisfaction was short lived; I could still feel Donavon’s presence when I began vomiting.
I was so busy regurgitating the previous day’s breakfast that I didn’t even notice Janet until I felt her hand on my back. I tensed.
“What happened to you?” Janet asked worriedly. I relaxed at the sound of her voice.
“Oh, you know, I just went for a little run.” I smiled weakly up at her, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“You’re soaked through. How far is a little run?” she asked alarmed. Her hand gently stroked my tangled curls.
“I left at sunrise,” I replied sheepishly. Janet grumbled, then wrapped her arm around my waist and carefully lifted me to my feet. I felt a little weak in the knees, but managed to stay upright with her help. I leaned against her gratefully, letting her support most of my weight.
“You might want to have somebody clean that up.” I nodded to the grass.
“I’ll get right
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