𝓛𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓕𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭

8

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He suddenly let go of me, pushing me gently forward, motioning me to run. I looked back at him; he grinned, his eyes turning a darker shade of green. I swiftly turned on my heels. The Lost boys weaponed up, each in a bundle of two, waiting for a cue, an instruction.

If they wanted to play, then I'll play.

I might have been confused, but I'm not stupid to stay around.

So I took off running; I had mentally mapped out half the island when exploring and had a pretty good sense of direction. I pieced everything together, this game was going to be like hide and seek, and they wanted me to hide.

My first idea was to hide in that treehouse, but I quickly realised that that would have been the stupidest hiding place ever. They would expect me to climb a tree in the middle of the island or try to run through it and hide in a bush.

And I have to say; if they think I'm going to do that, they have another thing coming. But there are only so many places I know of, so I went back to where I was first brought to this place, the beach.

The beach was a reasonable distance away and took some excellent skill or memory to find, or you were lucky to stumble across it, not knowing how to get there. I discovered my marking in the trees quite helpful when refinding the beach.

I knew I was getting closer as the wind began to pick up, and I felt the salty air dance on my skin. I didn't think of this as such as a game. Instead, I thought of this as a chance to escape—a chance to return to my grim old life.

I so desperately needed to go back. Everyone would be furious at my disappearance, especially since I needed to go on a critical mission in a few months. I felt myself slow down. Did I want to go back? Back to all that, back to 'father'? I began to feel queasy and gross at the thought of him. He would be so disappointed in me; well, he already is.

I feel disgusting and repulsing. I hate myself; how did I even get into this situation? How was I this stupid? How was I this weak? Everyone would be disappointed; he would.

How can people even look at me without vomiting and needing to take ten steps back? How can someone be this weak? I hate living like this. So lonely, numb, disgusting. Everything is so hopeless, so meaningless.

What's the point of running? This feeling, like fingernails down a blackboard, screeching in your head. It feels dark, pitch black. You can hear the muffled sound of the world around you, but it's dull and so far away that it might not even be there. You're just drowning in the darkness of your mind.

I hated that all the bad memory kept replaying in my mind.