It’s all wrong. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Why is this happening to me?

I turn my head back and see my pursuer. Not wasting time, I keep running. I have to get away from it before . . . before . . . <Stop thinking and run!> I tell myself. I continue to run. I’m panting now. I look ahead of me to see I’m almost there. Then I trip. I’m falling, rolling. I try to scramble up, but as I rise I’m knocked over. My pursuer has reached me.

I look up into her eyes. I see her sorrow. Her pain. She knows what she has to do. She can’t control it.

Pain. What a small little word. Why is it only four letters when those four letters have to express such an explosive feeling, more volatile than any other?

She does it. Quick and fast. And I’m left there in pain.

Why?

                             *                                *                                *

To think my life was so different 15 minutes ago.

She had told me it was dangerous. But I’d misunderstood. I always thought it was because of what her parents might think. But not this.

Never had the thought of what had happened crossed my mind. I don’t think anyone could have expected it. Except for her. Oh, how she tried to stop me. But I was blind; don’t they say love makes you blind?

Love. Another small, insignificant four letter word. So tender and caring. It can rip people apart the same way pain can, but the greatest things can come from it. So why is it so small as well?

She’d told me tonight was the night. The fear in her eyes had conveyed her message, but never had I thought it would have been this. Why hadn’t I opened my eyes to the clues?

And all I said to her was that we’d be all right.

Then I made the biggest mistake of my life. She was frightened. She’d said for us to stay apart for just this one night. But I’d said I’d rather die. Hah, I may get that yet. And then I said the woods would calm us.

That one little mistake may have cost not just me, but also her, everything. I insisted, and I didn’t listen to her. Why had I been so stupid?

We sat there, on that same log where we’d met last month. I’d found her, in ripped clothing and blood streaked across her face. I’d helped her, and I learned she lived in just the next town. For the next month, we were inseparable . . . until now.

So there she had been, sitting with me, when all of a sudden she shrieked. She’d fallen off the log and told me to get away. I asked her what was wrong, but she looked up at me and I knew then something was wrong. She looked . . . different.

I backed away as she began to snarl. She half growled to me to get away, and I saw her teeth in the moonlight . . . I ran.

Oh how I ran. I ran faster than ever before. If they had held a marathon that day I’m sure it would have been won by me. The fear of what she was becoming propelled me farther and farther away.

Fear. Yet again, letters don’t do the feeling justice. It is one of the greatest motivators. My grandfather once told me that it is fear, greed and hatred that drive people the hardest in life. It seems he was right.

                             *                                *                                *

So there I lay. She backed away from me, snarling. Then she took off in the other direction.

I lay there, blood seeping through my clothing. I struggled to get up, but could only lift my head. I tried to breathe, but got a sad excuse for one in return.

It was at that point that I was sure I was going to die. No one was around, and rightfully so. It seems the myths of the woods were true, and no one was coming to my rescue now.

All I can hope for is that she will be ok. I don’t want her to be sad. It was my fault. I didn’t listen to her, and now I was getting my just dessert. I hope she knows that no matter what, I will always love her

Always