The Mating Run by Leeka

Chapter 11

Guilt
As I stand over the lifeless body of the Hunter, the reality of what I’ve just done begins to sink in.
“No, no, no, no, no-”
My chest heaves with each breath, and I can feel my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. The forest seems to close in on me, suffocating me with the weight of my actions.
I never wanted this. I never asked for any of it.
But he left me with no cholce, no way out.
It was t
him or me.
Tears blur my vision, and I turn away from the Hunter’s body, taking shaky steps backward, I glance down at my trembling hands, which are stained with his blood. The metallic scent of it fills my nose, and I’m hit with a wave of nausea.
My eyes wander over to the camera again, its lens staring back at me, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s watching my every move. In a dazed panic, I frantically wipe my hands on my jacket, hoping to remove the blood, but it proves futile. The crimson color of blood stains the once gray tracksuit, leaving me in a state of shock as i stare at it, unable to belleve what I’m seeing.
A blood-curdling scream escapes my lips.
Without a second thought, I stumble away from the scene, my hands trembling uncontrollably. I’ve got to get out of here. With the cameras recording everything and the evidence piling up, there will be no escaping the fact that I am the culprit.
Running at such a rapid pace, I completely neglected to take my bag with me.
Without the bag, I feel a sense of emptiness washing over me. Lying abandoned
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at the scene of the crime, my lifeline, my supplies, everything I need to survive, taunt me. However, going back is not an option for me. Not now. It’s too late.
All I can do now is search for a more discreet hiding spot.
As I charge forward, the branches relentlessly assault my face, forcing me to swat them away in a frenzy. I push through the thicket, feeling the sting of sharp branches scratching my cheek, but I press on. Tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision, and I let them stream down my face as I s ob while running.
Even amidst my heavy breathing, I can still hear the mixture of pleasure and agony surrounding me.
Everywhere I turn, there are cameras, capturing my every move.
It’s as if they’re deliberately provoking me, meticulously documenting my getaway from the crime scene. Their unblinking lenses create a suffocating weight
in the air.

Suddenly, my foot catches on a fallen log, causing me to lose my balance and land face-first in the dirt. When I look up, I’m immediately confronted by a camera placed directly in my line of sight, recording the entirety of my fall. I feel a dizzying sensation as if the world is spinning, unsure if it’s a result of the guilt from my deeds. or the unrelenting scrutiny of those unrelenting cameras.
Ignoring the pain in my knees, I scramble to my feet, driven solely by the urgency to escape. Gasping for breath, I inhale the dense aroma of pine and damp earth. With each beat, my heart intensifies, echoing the painful reality of the danger
that surrounds me.
Each step I take deeper into the forest, my footing becomes more uncertain. As I push through the dense foliage, the branches scrape against my arms and face, but the adrenaline keeps me from feeling the pain.
The memory of the Hunter’s lifeless eyes is etched in my mind, a constant
accusation.
I can’t shake the haunting sound of his final breath escaping my lips.
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“I shouldn’t be blamed for this,” I tell myself, speaking with enough volume that the cameras surrounding me pick up every word. Without realizing it, I wrap my arms around myself, feeling the tremors run through my entire body. “It’s not on me. I did everything I could to survive.”
I have to find an inconspicuous location, a place where I can remain hidden from their prying eyes. But my thoughts are all jumbled, making it difficult to focus. The cloud of guilt from my recent actions impairs my judgment.
“F uck. F uck. F uck this s hit!”
I can’t go on.
Desperation grips me, my mind a chaotic tangle. The cameras-always watching, always following me. I whirl, repeating the movement in a never-ending cycle. And everywhere, the cameras silently watch and record. There’s nowhere to hide. I’m trapped in this never-ending nightmare, where the forest’s unblinking electronic eyes watch my every move.
The smell of damp earth fills the air as I stumble through the underbrush, the struggle of each step mirroring the weight of my burdens. Tears stream down my face, distorting my view, and I struggle to find a suitable hiding place.
What’s the point? The Hunters will find me, they will.
Collapsing to my knees, I feel the unforgiving forest floor beneath me. I’m dirty, bl oody, and utterly defeated. As I s ob, the sound seems to bounce off the trees in the woods, amplifying my cries of despair.
“Sh it. What was I thinking when I registered for this messed up thing? I’m such an idiot!”
I guess I could just give up, let them find me, and do whatever they want.
I don’t give a dam n anymore.
Then, my ears catch a soft, distant sound.
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The sound of water. Immediately, my body tenses up, and I close my mouth with a snap.
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It’s distant, but it’s there. As I stare at my hands drenched in blood, a pressing. realization cuts through the haze of despair-I need to wash them.
With newfound determination, I push myself up and track the source of the sound. The sharp branches relentlessly whip against my skin, causing it to sting with each strike. As I move forward, the allure of water intensifies, tempting me with the irresistible notion of purging the Hunter’s blood from my hands.
The closer I get, the louder the sound of flowing water becomes, providing a calming harmony in the midst of the forest’s commotion. My heart races as I hasten my steps, finally bursting through the trees and entering a small clearing.
In front of me, a crystal-clear stream sparkles in the dappled sunlight.
“Water,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, raspy and filled with newfound hope. “Water!”
My mouth involuntarily releases a startled laugh. With a wide smile on my face, I sprint as fast as possible towards the stream, my laughter echoing through the air. It’s a miracle no one has chased after me so far, but now I’m starting to believe it truly is a miracle.
Maybe, just maybe, there’s still a glimmer of hope for me.
With every ounce of energy I have left, I sprint and stumble to the water’s eye
My hands, stained with blood, tremble violently as I plunge them into the rushing stream. The icy water bites at my skin, but I welcome the pain. Cupping my hands, I scoop up the water and hear the gentle splashing sound as I wash away the crimson stains on my hands.
The water takes on a reddish tint, swirling and carrying the evidence of my
actions.
I scrub and scrub, desperate to wash away the sticky residue of blood from my
skin.
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Kneeling by the stream, I can feel the weight of my sorrow as my tears mingle with the flowing water. The cameras may still be watching, but I don’t care. At this moment, the only sounds I hear are the gentle lapping of the water and the rustle of leaves in the surrounding forest.
With my hands still trembling, I take a moment to drink from the stream, relishing the refreshing taste of the cool water. It’s a small comfort, but at least it provides some solace. I can’t remain here indefinitely, but the soothing sound of the water has rejuvenated me to carry on.
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