Run

The acrid, metallic stench of blood burned in Hypo’s nostrils. He careened wildly around alleyway corners, the sleeves of his sweat-drenched shirt grazing against the damp bricks of the filthy and derelict buildings that comprised the district. Everything reeked of death and viscera here, even with the heavy rain it lingered and permeated into the very ground. Hypo realized he was still clutching the baseball bat, his snow-white knuckles streaked with crimson. His racing heart synced perfectly with the heavy thud, thus thud of his footfalls – he was practically running blind, driven senseless by panic. He had not a clue where he was or how far he had run, his only desire was to get away. His breath was ragged and painful in his chest, the outside air was nearly too cold to inhale. He was vaguely aware of others as he ran, vaguely aware that nobody seemed to take any notice. Such ghastly sights were passé here. The ground was growing slicker underneath him as he carried on, pavement giving way to mud. Finally, exhaustion or maybe hysteria got the better of him and he fell. He made no move to rise, not even as the light drizzle turned to rain. All he could do was curl into himself and let out a strangled sob, overcome by everything he had just done.