As I’m falling to the ground, I feel as if time has slowed.  I keep my eyes clamped shut and I wonder if I will die quickly.  I know that guards will be waiting for me on the ground, and I can only hope that I will die before they get a hold of me.  I know that my father will encourage torture on me, at least until I obey his every word.

            I realize I am no longer falling.  I’m in strong arms. Dang it, why couldn’t they just let me die? I think, clenching my fists.  I open my eyes and I see not a hard, soldiered face, but a soft concerned one.  Then I feel myself falling again and I wince as I feel my body slam down into the paved road. 

“You couldn’t hold me for another two seconds, could you?” I mutter.

“No, I really couldn’t.  You would’ve been staring at my handsome face for far too long, and I’m afraid my face can only take so much staring,” comes the cheerful reply.  I look up again.  As much as I hate to admit it, he is handsome, with his jet-black hair and honey eyes.  He’s muscular too, but it looks as if it’s from real labor, not a gym.  He has a strong jaw-line and I find myself staring at his lips. 

“Staring at me again, are you?” he laughs.  I return this comment with no more than a glare.  He opens his mouth as if to comment again, but instead clenches his jaw and grabs my wrist.  “Come on, the guards are coming,” he says and I barely have time to breathe before I’m running. 

The End

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