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Barely holding on to her sanity, Twila ran faster than she ever had before, though it could have been an illusion from her overwhelmed senses. She couldn't remember where she was, or how she got there, but she knew that if she stopped, the things chasing her would find her again. They'd find her, and they'd take her back. No, she couldn't go back. No. Never.
Twila's new circus dress was spattered with crimson, and the side was covered with grey ashes. Her collar had been cut off somewhere, exposing red, raw flesh around her neck, bleeding down her shoulders and chest slightly. Her arms stung from the cuts she had gotten from a barbed wire fence, and the palms of her hands burned with a fire that had long been put out. Rain poured down, soaking her pigtails and numbing her toes.
Her fancy new black shoes made her feet ache, and one of them got caught in a tree root, tripping her and coming free. Twila got back up, running without it, the blisters on her feet glad for the coolness of the wet grass. She kicked off the other one without faltering, throwing out her arms to keep her balance. Oh, that hurt. That hurt a lot. She could feel the scabs on her back split open again, and she whimpered.
Each time she began to slow, her breath coming in ragged gasps, a booming thunder spurred her back into motion, whether it be a curse or a blessing from The Moon, Twila was too panicked to debate. Memories flew from her startled mind like bullets, coming and going, leaving behind feelings and thoughts she couldn't understand. Was this the first time she'd run? or the second? or third? or fourth? or fifth? or first? She couldn't remember. How long had she been running? Minutes? Hours? Days? Seconds? Her lungs were starting to burn.
Twila was startled into motion yet again,the grass slippery under her bare feet. She heard dogs barking from nearby, and her sensitive ears ached at the sound. Twila was exhausted, her steps unbalanced, her ears flat against her head. She wanted to give in... but no. She couldn't go back to that place. That place with the cages and the whips. The hoops and the ropes and the chains that bit at her neck and wrists, the humans that ogled at her and tugged on her tail. She could smell the vile stench even now, far away and running through rain... No. She'd rather die.
Twila forced herself to into motion again, gasping for air, but it seemed her small effort was futile. Caught off guard, she reached the edge of a cliff, overlooking a large lake. Pinwheeling her arms, she came to a stop, and turned around, spotting a large black dog racing towards her. She called out in shock and surprise, taking a step back, but her foot slipped on the wet grass, and she fell.
Down, down, down, and her scabbed over back met icy water, the pain making all thought or consciousness slip into the black abyss.
