She ran, arms pumping, hands clenched into fists.  Full pelt she ran down the steep incline, heart hammering and breath, torn from the cold night air filling her lungs.  She stumbled as the road levelled, arms thrown forward, she teeter-skidded a few paces, caught in the moment before the fall.  Seconds seemed to dance by and then the road was rushing up, the flung forward arms probably saving the worst of the fall.

     The air parted by her ear and a chunk of road dug itself into her cheek, she was springing up before the sound of the shot had finished echoing around her.  Her bare feet found grass and, toes digging in, she ran on veering off into the surrounding woodland.  She didn’t have much of an advantage in distance, she was clearly disadvantaged in the footwear stakes, and she certainly didn’t have a gun; but she could run, and she would keep running until those crazy bastards got bored or fell over and shot themselves in the head. 




At the beginning of the night, she had mockingly said she was bored, before laughing and tossing back another drink at the bar.  The guy who had bought her drink had two friends sitting in a van outside and as he lined up the next drink, he thought about the things they were planning for later in the evening.  He thought she would be glad of the drinks later; it might dull the pain a little.

As the night wore on, drink followed drink, one song spun itself into the next as the bar filled and then emptied around them.  When the bartender flicked the lights on and off to signal it was time for them to leave, he led her out of the booth with his arms propping her up.  She seemed a little far gone to the guy locking up, but he said nothing as he ushered the pair out of the door.

     One of her shoes fell off on the way to the van and like a true date he picked it up for her and squashed it back on to her foot.  He didn’t want anyone looking out of the window and wondering why she hadn’t stopped to retrieve her dropped shoe.  The side door to the van slid open after he rapped his knuckles against it and he bundled her, now semi-conscious, into the waiting arms of one of his friends.

Climbing in to the front seat he turns the key in the ignition and dials the stereo up.  Speakers blaring, the van wheel spins its way out of the car park and off into the night.


The End

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