After a couple of hours spent shooting pool with friends and listening to the jukebox in the comforting normalcy of the football club, I arrived home, at 10pm as promised, in my boyfriend’s car – my bike in the boot. To be honest the last forty-five minutes at the club had been uncomfortable as I grew more apprehensive about going back.
My heart thuds and there’s a rushing noise in my ears, like a subway train. A single thought fills my head, ” I HAVE to get away.” My feet pound the asphalt and I risk a lightening glance over my shoulder at my pursuer. “Oh my God, he’s gaining on me!” Panic squeezes me in it’s icy, iron grip and my belief in my ability to outrun him vanishes.
She held her breath and wished she could quiet the sound of her heart beating. Heartbeats turned to seconds, seconds stretched into minutes, minutes conspired to convince her that it was just her imagination. She knew if she turned over, covered one ear by lying on her side, she might miss a sound, and somehow, it seemed important to keep watch, listening and waiting, facing the danger. So she stayed frozen, her nine-year-old imagination pulling her towards a widening maw of terror.