Don’t Leave. Please.
Rushing through the alleyway, I routinely checked to see if they were catching up. They were.
Forcing myself to run faster, I could barely hear the sound of my shoes hitting the concrete as it was getting drowned out by the heart pounding in my chest. “Faster, come on, faster,” he repeats, practically shouting. Looking behind again, I see his eyes seeping with desperation.
We continue running while surrounded by brick buildings, never seeming to reach the end. Their calls get louder, my breaths get shorter. I slow down a little, allowing him to catch up with me. We exchange glances and he can tell that I’m in pain. But I guess that’s what happens when you’re friends with someone for most of your life.
The road starts to get closer and closer, giving me a little bit of hope. Slightly wincing as my feet stumble over a rock, I keep going. The thought that we might succeed powers my legs which are yearning for rest. With the end so near, I start to go slower, not thinking about anything else but sleep. He notices this and slows down until he’s right next to me. “What are you doing? We’re almost there,” he questions me.
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” I tell him, taking short, sharp breaths in between some words.
“Come on. Once we finish this, we’re done. We’ll be able to get out, for good this time,” he says and starts to run ahead again. I nod and hold back the tears, just like how he taught me to. My brain yells at my legs to pick up the pace, but they don’t listen, almost stopped at this point. The road is so close, and yet I remained paralyzed.
“Go. Go and give it to them. Then you’ll be able to live the life we always talked about,” I yell ahead and stop. “Don’t worry about me.” He stops as well and rushes back to my side to try and help me move again. “No, stop. Please just go, you’re so close,” I tell him.
“I. Am. Not. Leaving. You. Got it?” he says, pausing in between each word. I jump as I hear their boots hitting the ground and lessening the distance between us and them. I look up at his face and can tell that he’s plotting something.
“What are you planning?” I ask. He just shakes his head.
“Promise me you’ll get out of here, ok?” he says, more so telling me than asking.
“But-”
“You have to promise me that you’ll get out of here.”
“I-i promise, but you’ll get out of here too. R-right?” I trip over my words. He stays silent and pushes me towards the road. My body goes into flight mode and sends me running away, away from them and away from him. ‘Please say he’s following,’ I think to myself. When I finally reach the end I look back, expecting to see him right behind me. However, he hasn’t moved from where we were before, which concerns me. I can slightly see him reach into his pocket and then hold his hands out in front of his chest. He’s pretending to have a... “N-no!” I shout. He looks at me and his eyes are urging me to go. I want to stay, I don’t want to leave him. But apparently, my brain has another plan because I move backwards and turn the corner.
Then I hear the gunshot.
And then come the sirens.
I pull the hood of my jacket over my head and shove my hand into my pants pockets. “I thought you said you wouldn’t leave me,” I mumble, finally letting the silent tears flow.