I run through the woods, it's sunny, far too sunny. But I'm carefree, it doesn't bother me.

"You can't catch me, you can't catch me" I tease him, still running knowing I'm faster than him.

"I don't want to play anymore" he whines and I stop running to catch my breath, there is dirt and blood on my hands from falling over all of the time. I wipe them on my nice new white three quarter khakis.

"Why not?" I ask confused, I thought we were having fun?"

"You're too fast, you don't play fair" he crosses his arms and pouts.

"I do!" I retort.

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Do not!"

"Kids! I hope you're not arguing over there" my mother shouted from the backyard of my house a few yards away from the forest we are currently standing in.

"No mommy, its a game" I lie.

"Play nicely" she calls back.

"I'm faster than you and you're a sore loser. Ner-ner-na-ner-ner" I laugh and stick my tongue out at him, his brown hair is messily standing on end, completely windswept and tousled and his green eyes are sad because of my words.

"You're smellier than me too" he reciprocates to my previous mean comment.

"Hey I don't smell" I pout.

"Do too"

"Do not"

"Yeah you do"

"You love me really"

"Only on Sundays" he shrugs and I laugh loudly at his silliness.

My eyelids felt like they had papercuts, they stung excruciatingly as I opened them, the smell of vomit attacked my nostrils in the most unpleasant way. Where the fuck am I?

And then it slammed into me as the happy simmer of my dream faded away and the grogginess wore off as I awakened a little more. Fuck this isn't a happy dream, this is a nightmare—I thought. I'm still fucking here. Tears pricked in my eyes as I remembered the dream, the carefree child I used to be, the carefree life I used to have. The perfection I had—the perfection I could still have had if I hadn't of thrown it all away.

I sat up feeling rather achy. I didn't know how long I'd been laid in the same awkward position but it felt like a lifetime. The left side of my body was covered in my own vomit and my hands are too.

"Gross" I mumbled hoarsely, wiping them on what remained of my dress.

"Hello?" I attempted to call out, feeling the scratchy soreness of my throat, as if someone was giving my oesophagus a hand job with sandpaper. "Is anybody here?" I mumbled, feeling defeated. The acidy aftertaste of my upchuck burnt the back of my throat everytime I spoke so I decided not to bother.

And then it hit me—He's not here, he went out, I'm alone, I could leave. I laughed out loud at my idiocy, and more so at the stranger's idiocy. I took a huge breath and got shakily to my feet, my whole body was weak, shaking from lack of energy—you need to eat to have energy and I haven't eaten an actual meal in a couple of days and then I was brought here and I haven't eaten here either—and I've vomited all the contents in my stomach, so really I'm at a huge disadvantage but that didn't make me any less determined. I wondered if I could even make it to the door without collapsing.

Come on, you can do this, one foot in front of the other.

I lifted my right foot off of the floor and put it a few centimetres in front of the left one, a grin spread across my face—I got this!

I took it slow, wanting to—what's that saying? Walk before you can run? Yeah that, I wanted to take it slow and not push myself too far too soon. My legs shook the more I moved them and I began to lose faith in whether I could make it or not.

As I got a few metres from the door of the room I was in, I felt euphoric, I was getting out of here, yes! The front door slammed. I stood stock still, my heart felt as if it had stopped completely, like the front door had slammed on it and crushed it beyond functioning. But as soon as I heard the sound of boots on the wood floor it quickly sped up, pounding against my rib cage.

I took a few shaky steps backwards, my eyes never leaving the door that looked like it used to be painted a nice bright white but was now smeared in the aftermath of smoking too many cigarettes. I took a few more steps back, stumbling a little, fear mixing with my overworked body and making my movements clumsy even further. The sound of boots on wood kept echoing off the walls and I could hear him approaching the room I was in. Shit shit shit.

I stumbled backwards and tripped over absolutely nothing—because that's what fucking happens in desperate situations right? You can't just rush around and make it look like you never moved in the first place, can you? Of course not.

My body hit the floor with a thud that sounded far too loud for him to not know I'd moved, my head smashed against the wall I'd previously been propped against for god knows how many hours and my left arm landed in the contents of my stomach—prettily in a puddle on the floor. Ugh not again.

My head took no amount of time to start pounding and I felt a warm liquid trickle gently down my neck, and just as the filthy door that I almost escaped out of—almost—opened, my vision began to spot.

And darkness overtook me.

Notes

Oooooh, what's going to happen?
Who's this 'stranger' she keeps speaking of and why is he holding her against her will?
Who is she? What's her story?
Excuse my vagueness hahahaha!

Someone else is going to pop up in the next chapter, so keep your eyes peeled ;)

Please comment, let me know what you think :)

Have a lovely day!