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   Gasping breaths.

Feet pounding against cobblestone.

Heart stuttering.

"I will find you!" he screams.

My vision is blurred by panic as I dive into a small street that will lead back to some sort of populated area.

I need to find someone. I need help.

Safety in numbers.

My feet continue on, not wanting to turn back, to see him pursuing, his clothes smeared with blood. If I can get to a main street, he won't be able to follow. Not looking like that.

I burst out onto Market Street, right next to the donut shop. There are a few cars parked on the curb, but no one is in sight. I scramble down the sidewalk, searching for somewhere to hide, somewhere to find safety.

Right beside the donut shop, there's a small alley that hits a brick wall at the end. It's trashed. I dart inside, glancing over my shoulder.

For now, the coast is clear.

Then, all of a sudden, I feel my foot catch on something—and I sense my body falling forward into a puddle, crashing into the reflection of a frantic-eyed girl.

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