Day #23 – Amber (continued from Day #22):
It was an odd sensation of deja-vu bleeding into new adrenaline-fuelled victory. I’d believed that I’d been running before; now, I truly was. But it wasn’t as sleek, as effortlessly athletic, as when I only imagined my desperate flight. Now I stumbled over my own feet, breath rasping through dry, cracked lips, my tongue thick and sour.
I hadn’t realised until then just how thirsty I was, how desperately dehydrated my body had become. Vision swimming, head light and dizzy, still I ran. Walls, floors, ceilings shifted in and out of focus, as if seeing them through the ripples of a heat haze, and when I squinted my eyes my feet tangled together and I spilled to the floor.
‘Ouch!’ I gasped, my chin slamming down and teeth tearing into my tongue. Blood welled, eyes burned with the memory of tears, but still I scrambled clumsily to my feet and raced along on wobbly legs.
If he was going to kill me, he was going to have to work for it. And as I was determined to live, I simply had to work harder.
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