A/N: We were writing short stories in class, I was working on a Sea Patrol story, and had just finished when my friend started talking about her story, and mentioned running. My mind suddenly came up with this. I wrote it down, but of course it is slightly different to the original version. I hope you all enjoy!
She ran out of the hotel, and down the busy street, trying to avoid the pedestrians as she raced past, which was harder then it sounded, due to it being peek hour on a Friday.
She raced down the street, hearing her name being called out behind her, but not caring, nor stopping. If anything, it fuelled her to run faster and harder.
She ran, as fast and as hard as she could, needing to get away, from everything and everyone she knew. And the only way she knew how, was to run. So run she did.
She ran through busy streets turning at various corners, not having a destination in mind. She kept running, until she could run no further. Her whole body ached, her lungs screamed for oxygen.
As se recovered from the run, she took in her surroundings. A park. She was glad it was getting dark, because she knew no one would be able to find her here. She had no idea how far she had run, and now that it was getting dark, she wouldn't be able to find her way back.
Not that she wanted to, or, needed to for that matter. This was the only way to escape. Run. It was the only way she knew how. Because that was what she was. A runner.