Fucking run. It wasn't the the most eloquently-expressed thought, but it gave her the push she needed to keep going – through the pins and needles pain in her feet, through the persistent burning in the centre of her chest. And it did have the benefit of being the loudest thought in the cacophony of her inner dialogue. Louder, even, than the one that had chimed in fairly recently, saying, But you know him from somewhere. “I do, don't I?” she breathed, as she leaned against a brick wall to rest. A small part of her thought that she must have completely lost it, if she was talking to herself now, on top of everything else. But it was true, there was something familiar, something almost friendly about the... thing. Maybe—the thought was abruptly cut off by a louder one: Maybe? Maybe you should run. But run from what? Because there was no way that that thing could exist. And if it could exist, if he could exist, he was awfully familiar, she definitely knew—It doesn't matter if you know him, said the panicked voice of reason. It's a fucking giant half-fucking-rabbit. Run away.
And so, Sally ran.