~Lyra~

I was running.

Like, really actually running. Not the cutesy kind of jog you do on a treadmill when you’re pretending to be fit.

Not a TikTok-worthy, slow-motion bounce with a ponytail swishing and butterflies fluttering around you. No.

I was running like my life depended on it. Like the man I just called Daddy told me to run or he was going to fuck me up against the kitchen counter until I forgot my name, my address, and every single vowel in the English alphabet.

And oh my God, the worst part?

I wanted to be caught.

Like, I was literally sprinting through the woods barefoot with twigs...