by Rachael Dimond
I'm running through the woods. I'm out of breath but I must not stop running. He's getting closer to me. I can hear his feet crunching the branches and leaves. I'm sure the vines are scratching up his legs to a bloody pulp. I hope he twists his ankle and falls. I need to run.
He's getting closer. I can feel his breath on my back. I have no energy. I think I'll just sit down and rest for a while. If I close my eyes and pretend I don't see him, then he can't get me.
I hear voices. They're talking about me. I smell disinfectant. Am I in a hospital? How did I get here? I feel something in my throat. It feels like a breathing tube. There are all kinds of medical equipment hooked up to my body!
Oh, I remember. I’m dying. My husband decided to slit my throat because he caught me with his brother in bed. He couldn’t deal with the image and decided he was going to kill me. I tried to stop him but he just became more angry and violent with me. I loved his brother. Why couldn’t I be with him? Why did I have to marry a murderer?
I hear a beeping sound. I’m coding.
I'm in the woods. They're swallowing me up. I can't breathe. He's caught me. He finally caught up to me and has me now. It's over. The race is done. Death caught me.
[Rachael is a 25-year-old -book reviewer for 4 sites online. She loves to write and would like to write a book one day. She enjoys reading mysteries and thrillers that take her breath away. She likes to be wowed from the first line to the last and that is how she writes, never letting up the tension.]