Short stories

I am too afraid to die.

Running. That is all Azriel has been doing for the past few months. Running... nothing but running and hiding.

Being haunted down by powerful people, having no idea what they will do to him if they manage to catch him, gave him no choice but to run. However, that was the price one gets when their curiosity is bigger than their rationality. You can think of it like a fly settling down on a spider's web, intrigued by what it is, and then getting trapped and entangled, leaving a problem that one cannot easily get out of. In Azriel's case, he is the fly, the web is the reason that he got into this mess in the first place, and the spider is the entire flock of men, with dark clothing and weapons that were constantly chasing him and tailing him wherever he went.

"He is running east, down Birchwood Lane. Team Alda you're up," spoke one of the men through his earpiece. "On it," replied a man from Team Alda. They chased after him and ran as though they were racing against the wind, trying to catch him, having escaped them countless times that very night.

"Boss, he is heading your way," one of the men indicated. "On it," replied their boss.

Azriel kept running as fast as his legs could carry him. He looked tired and worn out but the thought of getting caught and not knowing what was going to happen to him, gave him enough determination to stay on his feet and continue running. His lungs burned as they tried seeping in as much oxygen as they could, as he continued running and turning in all sorts of directions, hopefully to get them off his tail, and find some place to hide. However, unlike the rest of the time, this time it seemed as though it was not going to be as easy to ditch them.

He turned on a random corner on his left, bumping hardly into someone, whose exterior was as hard as a brick wall. He fell backwards right onto his back, hitting his head hardly on the hard and cold, concrete ground. His vision became fuzzy, as the world spun around him, and his ears rang. A tall man loomed above him, seemingly saying something to Azriel, but to Azriel, his mouth was simply opening and closing without ever making a sound. Not soon after, black spots filled his vision, and he passes out.

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Azriel came to with a thundering headache, his eyes clenched together, not only because of the dull pain coming from his head but also the light that seemed as though its scope was to torch his eyeballs. He bit out a couple of profanities as the pain continued progressing and moving down his body, starting to become almost intolerable. He tried to move his hands to rub his eyes, but something was restraining his mobility, and not only his arms but his legs as well.

He shot his eyes open, needing to look at the cause. His arms and legs, along with the area where his ribs were, were restrained by thick ropes, which bound to him to a chair. He tried wrenching his arms free, but only made it worse as the ropes tightened more and dug into his skin with every tug and pull he made. He continued struggling against the ropes, crying out in fury and agony as the ropes sawed in deeper into his skin, burning his flesh and drawing blood. He was immobilized completely; in a place he was unfamiliar with. He felt a tremor of panic vibrating in his chest as the memories of what had happened flooded back into his brain and realisation hit.

He remembered getting chased down, turning a corner, bumping into a man, falling down, hitting his head, and passing out. He could not make out his face, but he was sure he was the reason of his captivity. Thoughts of all possible scenarios and outcomes of the situation he found himself in fogged his brain. His breaths started quickening, as panic started to take over every rational thought he had. However, he managed to latch onto the fact that panicking was not going to get him anywhere, it would only make his situation worse. The only thing that he could do in this situation was to analyse his surroundings in order to become familiar with them and make up some sort of plan.