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I stopped. Heart pounding in my chest. Lungs burning like a fire set deep inside them.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Run.

My feet wouldn’t obey. A shiver crept up my spine like a spider tickling my senses with its many tiny legs. It was the name on the old brick wall, my name, that scared me more than anything. Anna. Thick red letters about a foot tall shown in the security light of the alley. My hand shook as I touched the cold, wet A. The viscous substance coated my fingertip, its metallic smell leaving its mark on my taste buds without ever touching my tongue. My stomach retched. Blood. Swiping my hand across the denim of my jeans, I felt it dampen my skin underneath and I wanted to scream.

I caught a glimpse of the abandoned car I’d left at the end of the alley. The Escort was useless now. Out of gas and of life, it sat there helplessly, unable to give me what I needed most, to get the hell out of here. I gripped the handle to the snubbed nosed revolver tighter. It weighed a little heavier in my hand.

“You are mine, Anna.”

A dark figure came out of the shadows from the other side of the alley. I wanted to run but thought better of it as I felt the mark on my neck burn like someone was pressing a lit cigarette onto my skin. “Please. You can’t make me do this.”

 

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