You run.

They’re right be­hind you.

You run faster.

They have dogs. They have knives. They have guns. And they all want one thing: a piece of you.

He came up be­hind you.

He put the gun to your head.

“Run,” he said. And you did.

And you’ve not stopped.

Are you just a sport to them? Do they just find a ran­dom guy fish­ing on the lake and say, “Hey, let’s chase him for awhile?”

The po­lice should be here by now, surely. The other fish­ers must have seen this all.

That girl who was next to you… you don’t like her very much; she pulled in way too many fish way too eas­ily. But surely she saw some­thing?

BANG!

That whizzed right by your ear!

You glance over your shoul­der, and it’s clear the mus­ta­chioed man did not miss.

It is a game.

It’s all a game.

BANG! Your other ear! You’re not sure you can hear prop­erly any­more.

Some­one else shot that one… A girl.

The girl.

Well, that ex­plains why she did­n’t call for help.

You duck be­hind a tree, then con­tinue run­ning.

David, David, David… What did you do to de­serve this?