The Chase

I wrote this story because I enjoy reading murder mystery books and writing gives me something to do when I'm bored.

• Mystery
• Horror

								
I’ve been running for hours, and I was lost in the maze of the forest. Everything looked the same no matter which way I turned. I’ve been running for at least an hour now, and I was exhausted, yet I knew if I stopped I would die. My gut was telling me he was still behind me, yet I couldn't hear him. I kept running as fast as I could, trying my best to get away, while sharp plants cut into my bare feet. I quickly turned my head to look behind me. Bad idea, I thought right before I saw him, still sprinting after me, and sharp knife in hand, still covered in blood from our earlier struggle. As I turn my head back to look in front of me, I trip on a vine and fall and cry out from the pain lancing throughout my body. I scramble to get up, but before I can start running again, I feel an arm snake around my body restraining me and cold, sharp metal pressing against my neck. I felt him starting to apply pressure, enough to scare me but not enough to actually kill me. I went completely still, frozen against him, waiting for the knife to slice through my neck. “I’m sorry,” I breathed out. “It was a dare; it won’t happen again. Please don’t do this." I feel his arm tighten around me, making it hard to breathe. “I know it won’t, because you’ll be dead,” he says roughly, his voice sending shivers down my spine. “Do you think playing with someone’s feelings is funny?” He asks me, and I’m scared to answer, “No, I’m sorry, it was wrong." His arm tightens even more, and my air flow is close to cutting off. I try to move so I can breathe easier, but his knife presses against my neck, drawing a small stream of blood. “Stay still,” he whispers, and I do, not wanting to be hurt any more. “Who gave you the dare?” He asks, his voice rough, and I hesitate to answer in case he will hurt them. “My friends,” I answer, not wanting to be specific. I can feel how angry he is about that answer by the fact that he tightens his grip on the knife and presses it against my jugular, “I want names." My eyes widen and my heart pounds hard against my chest, my fear growing of what he plans to do to them and to me. “Gianna, Claire, and Sophia,” I whisper shakily, “that's all, of them." I feel him move the knife away from my throat, and his arm releases me, and I suck in a deep breath. I turn to face him and find him staring down at me with a sharp glare in his gaze. “Run, don’t tell anybody about this.” As soon as the last word leaves his mouth, I turn and start to jog away, not having enough energy to run. After an hour, I finally found my way out. Still panting, I walked until I came to a bench and sat down. I take a few deep breaths and try to calm my racing heart. I close my eyes and think back over what happened, feeling a mixture of fear and relief. I stand up and take a deep breath. I start to walk away, making my way towards my home with the barely noticeable light from the lampposts.
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