Catch Me if You Can

I started running when I was six years old. Not the silly kind of running every child does when they're in Kindergarten and want to play a game. Not elementary school track. Not middle school track. Definetly not high school track- I'm not fast enough. The running made me limp and out of breath, as any kind of running would do. But when I stopped running, my panting never went away. When I stopped, my body couldn't calm down. Chills would blow over me, even though it was 90 degrees out. Sweat would keep dripping down my face, despite my cold chills. My mind raced. My hands shook. My body broke.

I started running through the woods. It was a calm place and I was the storm. He and I were the storm. I ran as far as I could through the thick branches and leaves. I ran past the river and lake. I ran and ran and ran. From him.

HE was going to catch me. HE was going to use me. HE was going to kill me.

So I kept running. From when I was six years old.