Thump.
A single sound, a beat reverberating against the floor I lay on, brought me out of my reverie. And, as sudden as a gunshot, as quick as my rising pulse, I shot up. Jumping upwards I planted my feet firmly on the ground, taking a defensive stance. Was it time? Had they come for me? I craned my neck, looking around, searching my surroundings. Looking for anything unfamiliar, something not usually seen by the untrained eye.
But, there was nothing unusual.
No threats detected.
I visibly relaxed, slouching my shoulders and slumping backwards anemically. I was still exhausted. But, there was something different. Looking around, I drew a tentative breath in. Snow. The one thing I couldn't escape, couldn't run from. No matter how stringent my schedule, how hard I was forced to move on. I breathed out, and watched the white fog hover in the air. The world was quiet, still as the crisp morning air. Something I had not yet grown accustomed to.
The sight in front of me was strangely beautiful. Flurries of snow fell to the once muddy ground, dots of white sashaying from side to side. The trees around me- once dead and lifeless, brown leaves hanging limply- had been transformed. Now coated in a thick blanket of perfect white snow, the gleaming reflection of the morning sun sparkling in the ice. The image was serene and simple. All the blemishes and marks, the imperfections…gone. So that everything before me was perfect, and untainted.
The snow had the uncanny ability to do that.
A wave of nostalgia washed over me, bringing with it the precious memories I keep locked away. But, no matter how hard I tired, they rose to the surface, opening old wounds that were in the process of healing. Flashbacks of gathering around the crackling fire place, opening presents. Laughing with my parents, all of us sitting on the faded leather couch and telling stories until midnight.
But, instead of suppressing those memories, burrowing them somewhere in the deep crevices of my mind, I let them flow freely.
They served as a catalyst, strengthening my feelings of anger and malice towards the people responsible. My need for revenge.
A cold shiver made its way up my spine, and I brought my ragged leather jacket closer to my body. The cold air was rushing past me, becoming more violent by the second. It seeped into my skin, filling my pores and making my teeth chatter. How could I have been so myopic? I thought ruefully. The snow would make it practically impossible to travel now. I would have to find shelter somewhere.
Thump.
I looked to the left now; eye’s locating the source of the sound. The naked trees that were dotted around me shook under the weight of the snow, the twig-like branches unable to support the white chunks, so bits and pieces fell to the ground. It was nothing, just the harmless movement of the piling snow.
No threats detected.
I stood up again, wincing at the pain that shot through my left leg. I took my jacket off, and tied it securely around my wound, tightening it until it almost cut off my circulation. My arms were full of angry gashes and cuts, drops of deep magenta coating the flesh wounds. But, it was easy to ignore the pain. Most of my body had gone numb.
My stomach grumbled in anticipation of food. I hadn't eaten a solid substance for at least two days. My insides were hollow, empty. I had wasted so much time on searching for something to eat, to curb my ravenous desires. Too much time.
And then, in a split second, a sound erupted. A shot fired through the air, electrifying everything as my hairs stood on ends and my breathing became erratic. It narrowly missed me, whipping past my head to become lodged in the tree behind me. The bullet punctured the wood, and a trickle of yellowish sap poured out of the bark, as if it the tree was crying, howling out in unbearable pain. Another shot echoed through the air, the obstreperous sound piercing my eardrums, and my heart banged against my rib-cage, almost bursting out.
My feet moved beneath me, almost instinctively, and I broke into a run. I was efficient and trained, as my arms whipped by my side, fingers clenched together. Keep running, and don’t look back, a voice in my head whispered, urging, pleading for me to run faster. My movements were strained, but effective, as I flew over fallen branches and navigated my way through the snow. The sharp branches jutted out from the trees, like angry claws, reaching out to scratch my exposed skin.
But I kept running, an activity that is second nature to me now. I had no time for food, or shelter. No more time to waste thinking about the past, longing to go to the place I so foolishly called home. Because they had come for me again. Relentlessly chasing me, even more vicious than before. I ran for my life, my freedom, my absolution.
Because a threat had been detected.