Page 55 - Anonymous
P. 55

corridor; the lightbulbs overhead flickers





                  in time to her heartbeats pounding in her





                  ears.  The  flares  offer  her  momentary





                  cover  in  the  shadows  of  the  hall.  Her





                  sock-clad  feet  make  no  sound,  but  her





                  heavy  breathing  causes  her  to  whip  her





                  head around every few seconds in fear of





                  being heard. They are coming. Run, run,






                  run.  Laughter,  wicked  laughter  follows




                                       Just a little farther, a few steps
                  the taunt.





                  between her and freedom. She knows she
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