She trembles in her wake, gaze fluttering swiftly, her mind quivering with the fear of realization. Not again, not again. Her breath hitches, small arms wrapping around the base of her knees. Please! She chokes then, stifling on a sob. Her stomach appearing to clench together and her chest heaving with shallow and rapid breaths. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. The darkness of her hues blink in the scarce light provided, staring at the vibration in her fingers her anxiety provokes. She sniffles, allowing herself three minutes of wallowing before she has to run. One. Her fingers shake unequivocally. Her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, of terror. Two. She tries to slow her breathing. Almost time. Run faster this time. It’ll come. Three. It’s funny she thinks, with a morose sense of humor that is vile and dark, how her sneakers appear to cling to her feet. They’re not bare. She’s never had the vantage of shoes before. RUN.
Scrambling to her feet, Daphne leaps forward. Stumbling across the wet grass, moving within any direction. She’s found it doesn’t matter, just don’t stay within a clearing. It’s as she’s darting across the grounds, her lungs constricted with a lack subsequent air and panic, that she notices the absence of the forest. Of the willowing trees and their outstretched branches. Instead, getting clearer, is the sight of a vast looming building. Its walls tall and friable, an eerie sight in the blackness of night. In her distraction she doesn’t realise the silhouette of a person carving itself within her view. With a thud and a stumble, she collides against them. Her world shaken. There aren’t suppose to be any others.
