His Little Runner

Running, that's all I did, all I've ever done. Nowhere to go and nowhere to hide; nowhere was safe for me. I was twelve when it happened, the day after my birthday.

We had just started cleaning the house and getting ready for the holidays three weeks later; it'd be Thanksgiving, then, exactly a month after, it would be Christmas. Who would have known that would be the last day I'd ever see my family? Our relationship may not have been great, but I still loved them unconditionally. They were my family, after all. There was nothing terrible or wrong between us; we fought and loved like a typical family.

Right now, I'm twenty-one and still running. I eat and sleep when I can; I've been all over the east coast and am currently in Vermont. It's now springtime here, and it's so pretty with the flowers and trees starting to bloom and the cool air slowly turning warmer. It feels excellent upon my frail and pale skin. It's just lovely, relaxing, and calm; Just what I've been needing.

I guess you're wondering why I'm running and who I'm running from. But it's not who; it's more of 'what' I'm running from. I know who he is, and I'm sure more people are like him, which is why I keep to myself. I don't usually stay in one place for over a few months, a year at most. I don't need to be caught; who knows what'll happen if he gets a chance to see me.

I know of his name, but I've only heard it once; 'Stephen' played over and over in my head for the past nine years; there hasn't been a day when I didn't hear his name echo in my head. He looked at most 23 years old, but you'd think he was around a hundred years old by how he reacts to everyday things. He's littered with tattoos from head to toe. I have only seen him a handful of times, but what he looks like never left my mind. He's got these piercing blueish, almost silver eyes and a jawline that could kill someone.

The only way I knew it was by him following me was because of a particular tattoo on his neck; his floral piece was the only visible colored piece I noticed, while the rest were more black and white. He hasn't stopped following me; he always knew where I was and where I've been. But he hasn't made a move. It's as if he's watching me and my every step, ensuring I won't cry 'wolf' or something.

At this moment, I had no idea where he was; all I knew was that he was in town. I only knew this because now and then, you could hear the whispers of the residents of the city talking about some mysterious man in an excellent car driving around town; most comments were from the women who'd talk about how built he was and how he was 'attractive' while the male population spoke about how nice the car looked and tried to guess on any information about it.

As a twenty-one-year-old living independently with an economy like what we currently have, I had to get a job, well two; I now work at a gym and a bar a block away from the gym. My apartment was a block away from the place where I work, so I didn't have a fear of walking home at night, I made sure only to keep the number of people at work, so no one could figure out where I lived, and I preferred to keep things professional, you know, co-worker to co-worker. I wouldn't say I liked to mix my personal life with my professional life. I would have felt guilty if they got hurt because of me and my constant moving. When it comes to getting a job, I always apply to be a temp staff due to the constant moving and running that I've been doing.

Stephan has been chasing me, terrorizing me for so long that I don't think I remember what it's like to settle down somewhere and feel welcomed in a community like I have. Vermont is such a beautiful state, I've been here for a little under a year, but I've never felt so calmed and welcomed in a place like I have. I'm currently in a small town and was greeted immediately with open arms. Those I talk to have always treated me kindly and respectfully. I love it here. I love my job and where I live, but the distance of my commute to places I need to go (outside of work) is a bit of a pain.

Well, that's a lie. Driving and walking to where I need to go isn't a pain; I don't like being alone for the commutes, they make me anxious, and I feel like I'm being followed for every step I take.

I had just arrived at the gym half an hour before my shift started; I always arrived early to get a short workout before dealing with the customers. It's just what I did; it was my distraction from the previous day's stress and the oncoming stress of the day. Little did I know that today would feel like the longest day of my life.

I walked into the counter and signed in to the system, letting it know I was there for my workout, and walked to the locker room where I put my bag in an employees-only locker, grabbed my water bottle, and left the room to the treadmill where I started the short workout, which I ran for about five minutes slowly easing up from a steady paced walk to a sprint; I'd run in a sprint for as long as I could handle it, which by now is a long while. From the treadmill, I moved to the weights, where I picked up two fifteen-pound dumbbells, went to one of the benches, and started doing leg workouts. Already half of my training is done. I set th