Chapter 57th

The night air grew colder. A sporadic gush of wind would blow past me, announcing a storm. Leaves came pelting down my way whenever it hit, their shadows looming closer unexpectedly confused me into a fright – whether those drained my energy or injected me with another dose of adrenaline, I didn't know for sure… but I tried my best to preserve it as I ran for my life.

The streets were empty, the occasional cars that rolled by would not stop if I tried – they knew better than to risk themselves at such an hour -, the brownstones I passed by were all dark – the city was asleep. The only sound filling the night was that of our feet hitting the asphalt, and of the occasional rustling of leaves on treetops – a dry swoosh that spread and echoed all around me, drowning out Chris's noises, his imminent approach.

I was no match for my pursuer, and I knew that as soon as I set off to running. And the more I ran, the closer he'd get, so simply running was not the best of plans, but I guess I wasn't so good at thinking on my feet. I didn't know where to go, whom to turn to if no good Samaritan crossed my path, instead I just kept on running with the ultimate solace in mind that, if at least I took him far enough from my house, the cop would wake up, he would leave that basement and save himself… and if he was fast enough, he might even save me… but I punished that thought: I wouldn't hope. I'd just keep on running, and accept whatever fate had in store for me.

I could bet that one stride of his was equivalent to three of mine, but still some luck was on my side as he constantly failed to gain on me and grab me. He'd tried already: he'd flanked me twice, but before he closed in, I'd come across a turn on my other side and taken it, and somehow gained some distance in the process. Now, I was getting tired, and still I ran on, uncaptured. Perhaps my running skills were better than I had imagined? Maybe I was some sort of prodigy on it without ever knowing? Whatever the case, it couldn't last. I was getting tired fast.

I swerved around parked cars, hoping to confuse my chasing executioner. I tried running into small alleys in hopes he'd lose sight of me, but he'd always nearly reach me then, and divert my course – I'd hear him behind me and I'd panic, and that would give me some extra strength to carry on. There was no plan other than running, and time was not my friend that night: it was too late, or too early in the morning, I didn't know which… but whatever the case, the streets were empty, I was alone.

My feet grew numb. I had to change tactics fast, before I fell down: running a straight line as I'd been doing, he'd catch me soon. Why didn't I scream? I couldn't afford the air, couldn't afford wasting my last resources upon such uncertain results.

The empty night air enclosed the sound of my steps. A large, open space reproduced them: the school building greeted me as soon as I turned the corner. I had accidentally retraced my most usual path.

Drawn by it like an animal to a light in the dark, I followed faithfully, familiarity posing as refuge. But no, it wasn't just familiarity's illusion: in there, I was bound to have some advantage! I knew, for instance, exactly where the hedge was spread thin around the wall, it was where a light post stood to help me make the climb over – I had sneaked in and out of school enough times to know. Muscular memory was all it took to jump in one more time, and so I did.

I gained the vast patio, my steps echoed in its emptiness, and only when I was halfway through it I allowed myself a pause – to breathe, to hope it was over, to look back and find Chris.

But of course I was wrong, of course I was conceited in thinking my advantage spot for climbing the wall was enough to deter him. Chris was a grown man, so much taller than me… and how I consistently sabotaged myself when I thought him any less apt than I could be: he needed none of my clutches to best me in breaking into the school – he simply put his hands on the edge of the wall and jumped to the other side, landed heavily on his boots, dusted his hands from the debris by slapping them together, then walked – walked my way, eyes fixed on me, moist hair clung to his forehead, mouth half-open as he breathed for air. Even though I couldn't no more, I resumed my running!