Passion For Murder (The Return) p.I


She ran, she ran ever faster. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Every time she looked back, she saw this stalking figure behind her. Nothing but a smile peering from under his hood. A smile she imagined the Devil himself would wear.
She ran down the street, unsure of which direction she stood take. Take the alley way? Less likely chance she’d run into anyone who could help her, but it did provide a short cut into the downtown district where many late night bar hoppers would be. Or she could stay on the public streets and hope to run into another human being.
She cut through the alley. She had hoped she could make it to downtown before her pursuer could catch her. In the back of her mind, she began to second guess herself. But, she knew her chances of running into someone in the late hour on this side of town would most likely not happen. She had to take a chance.
She began to scream for help, praying someone would hear her.
“Oh god, someone help me please. Someone please help me. I pray to god, someone please help me,” she yelled repeatedly. Her voice just bounced off the alley walls back at her.
She stumbled, but managed not to fall. She looked to see where the dark smile was at. As she turned, she saw a hand reach from the shadows and grab her by her throat.
He lifted her up and slammed her to the ground. Pushing her in the face repeatedly, her once golden glow turned bright red, flushed and bleeding. She kept fighting, though she felt his entire weight on top of her.
She knew she was no match for him physically, but she knew one thing. She lifted her leg as best as she could and in one swift motion, landed a blow between his legs.
The dark, sinister smile he wore on his face turned to one of surprise and pain. The hand that once held her throat in a tight cobra clutch was now grasping his genitals.
She quickly pushed him off the top of her. Dragging herself off of the ground, she started to run again, but she didn’t get far. He grabbed onto her ankle. A smile turned painful expression was now one of anger and hate.
She attempted to kick him in the face. Her foot hit its mark, but he continued to hold tight. She continued to kick. As she did, his grip loosened. He was still trying to recover from the kick to his groin. It was just enough to where she was able to pull her leg away.
She started to run, confident she would be able to get away till she felt something sharp slice through her leg causing her to stumble. She didn’t have to look down, she could feel the blood trickling down her leg. She was afraid to, but she looked back anyway.
Sitting there, with the grin back on his face, he was holding a knife dressed with her blood. She knew not when he had managed to pull it out, but he had successful sliced her hamstring and preventing her from sprinting down the alleyway. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was enough to slow her down and stop her from making a get away.

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