Another Day Alive

Step. Step. Squeak. On the very streets of Opheli Lane was a murder hunt, me being the very first target. Before I knew it, a group of men standing near their matte black cars, with dark black coats and slick back hair-- the same men I had caught on video the other day, fixed their eyes on me and headed straight toward my direction.

My trembling hands closed the door shut, and I began to run as fast as I could handle-- in zigzags, just in case they had guns or some freaky weapon that they could throw at me.

I couldn't risk any chances.

The police wanted them dead, and that must mean they probably wanted me dead as well.

 After minutes of sprinting, I soon had collapsed onto a metal bench and tried to steady myself. I hugged my knees tight until they became numb from the pain.

My lungs screeched for air, my breath coming out in deeper and faster spurts when the evening air stabbed my throat to my lungs with an icy chill.

My phone, I need my phone. Where did I put it? I need to call the cops. I frantically rummaged through my jacket and in the pockets of my jeans, convinced that it was there.

It wasn't.

My fingers curled into a fist in frustration when I had realized that I had left it at home. 

"The only time I don't bring my phone... I'm so dead." I whispered, my fingers pressed to the rocky ground so hard that they bled.

My heart pounded at an intense rhythm, every pounding beat bounded with quivering fear within my chest. I'm not even an adult yet.

I can't die tonight.

 Hearing their light steps drawing nearer and nearer, I hid behind the wall and covered my mouth to remain as silent as possible, in hopes that maybe they would leave.

 I slowly peeked from the wall and found them entering the alleyway, crouched forward, with sharp knives gripped in their hands. Nope, they most certainly did not leave. Hurry, time to go.

My shivering body, covered in dirt and sweat, managed to move a few steps. A few steps turned into leaps. The sloshing sound of my drenched tennis shoes resonated off the alley walls with a soft echo, followed by several subtle footsteps from somewhere behind me, becoming louder by the second.

 Damn it, what do they even want from me?

Well, I guess what else?

They just want revenge, I thought.

If only I hadn't taken the video, maybe I wouldn't be in this mess. 

 "You can't run away forever," a voice shouted. "don't make this any harder for me, or you'll regret it, kid." The biting cold spread painfully throughout my feet as I sped around the corner, jumping over trashcans and large branches, kicking them back in an attempt to slow them down.

With each leap, a throbbing pain shot into my legs, hurting even more in every moment, but I kept going.

Shadows staggered behind me, chasing me up the stairs and sidewalks.

They are so fast... My lungs are starting to give up on me.

But my lungs will have to wait.

To the best of my luck, I had found my car parked in a lot a few yards away, and I sprinted faster out of pure desperation, my lungs burning hotter than fire. Up close, I then noticed the scratches and the terrible damage they had done to my car.  

Oh my goodness, my poor car- nevermind, I thought. Slamming the doors closed, I grab my keys in between the edge of the passenger seat and jab it through the keyhole. The engine starts to purr, and I let out a sigh of relief.

But, not even a few seconds later, I saw, to my horror, two matte black cars speeding their way towards me, side by side. 

Crap.

 Distance was all that mattered now. Stepping on the gas, I adjusted my rearview mirror and focused my attention on the road. The problem was the cars in front of me were so incredibly slow, and in rage, I repeatedly hit the car horn. Silence ensued. The damn vehicles didn't even do anything. "Oh well. It's now or never," I said, clenching my teeth. 

Horns turned into wails as I swerved past the cars and raced past the stop signs. A motorcycle rushed straight at me before slewing side to side on the road. Sheering through the tight turns in the streets, I head into the freeway. I almost believed that I had escaped until I heard a distant gunshot. 

They have guns too? They better not try to hit my car. From the corner of my eye, the man held the rifle without moving, aiming it towards- my car.

"THOSE FREAKI-" 

Boom.

The back window shattered into hundreds of shards, a few striking my shoulder, as I winced in agony, causing me to spin in multiple directions.

But, the instant I slowed down, I could see everything: the cars, the lanes, with one led back to the city, the city I knew from memory, the buildings, the streets-- everything.

I knew exactly what I had to do.

Quickly making a right turn, I sped through the streets, not too slow, but just enough so they were right where I wanted them. After a few minutes, I had arrived. There was a street that led to one narrow road between tall, gloomy buildings, where the path had a tight left turn, with a train track placed north of the corner. It was about time for the train to reach here, so all I had to do now was to time it right. 

But deep down, I was terrified, really.

The adrenaline pulsing through my veins screamed to hit the gas, to drive away like a fool, and perhaps I would make it out alive. And everything I did in my years could never prepare me for this. One wrong move, and for the seventeen years I've lived for, would go to waste.

Having examined my options in surviving, and pondered over them, I chose to stick with my intuition. My intuition was my best weapon, after all. A few seconds had passed, and I spot the cars approaching. They were just on time. Slamming my foot down on the gas pedal, I fly towards the track.

 Five seconds. The train was nearing us at a wild breakneck rate, but I began to doubt if I’ll make it or not. 

Three seconds. I sped up my car, going 60 miles above the speed limit.

 Boom. 

They had blasted my car again. I felt the back tire falling flat, but there was nothing I could do about it.

 One more second. 

Before they could catch up to me anymore, and before the train could go any longer, I kept my foot on the pedal and steered left, my car turning in a 360-degree circle so fast my shoulder was thrown against the side door, my head plunged against the ceiling, and heard an enormous crash.

My body felt lifeless, and all I could do was think.

Am I dead?

Why can't I move?

Please,

let me live.

Soon, the car came to a stop and I made my way out, groaning as my body was still sore. The rearview mirrors had cracks and scratches engraved on the edges, with the mirror slightly broken apart to pieces. But I could still see my reflection. I studied the bloody crimson wounds and cuts on my face, and my clothes, now looking like stained rags. My eyes widened as I turned to the black cars up ahead.

The car in front had the hugest dent known to man, and the men inside looked unconscious, or dead, with pools of blood dripping from their mouths.

The second car traveling behind was too fast and flipped over, still slowly screeching along the plain on it's back before it exploded into glowing flames.

I stared, looking back and forth until I could finally process what I had done.

I made it.

I'm still alive.

I guess it’s not me who was destined to die tonight.