All I could think about was getting away as fast as I could. The white clouds forming by my mouth showed my quick breaths. I could not get in enough air. My throat was a desert. My glasses were slipping off sweat covered nose. I didn't have enough time to catch them as they tumbled from my face. I could hear the thudding footsteps behind me. The mysterious chaser grew closer. I was blind to my surroundings. I bumped into a cold, metal rod. The tip of it ripped my palm as I tried steading myself. I gasped at the pain. I know I had to keep moving forward. I heard the squish of wet grass and fresh mud under my feet. The heavy breathing of my pursuer drew near. I had to find some place to hide. As I turned sharply my foot caught something on the ground. I was thrown forward. All the scenrios of my fatal fall rush into my brain. Before my injured hand hit the soggy ground, someone caught me. Hot air raced across my ear. I knew the end was near.
"Bridget," whispered the one voice I could never forget. The deep, sweet voice of my first love, Trinton. He pulled me to my feet. Gently placing my scratched up glasses on my face, he spoke, "I'm sorry if I frightened you. I was just trying to return your jacket. You left it at the party. It is quite chilly out here." His thick british accent made his consideration evenmore profound.
"Thank you," I managed to reply. We hugged for what seemed like hours.
He tilted my head back. Right as our lips touched, my mom woke me up for school.
