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.
_______________
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