Run (Emi)

Run


The sun is setting. She doesn't care, the finish line comes into view. She passes it and keeps on going.

She used to have a running partner. He's gone now. She doesn't care. The finish line again, she keeps on going, another lap. Her boyfriend is gone, she couldn't let him get close enough. She couldn't risk losing him. Even though she did, but not like that.

The moon hangs high in the night sky by now, she doesn't pay it a second glance. Her lungs are beginning to burn, her heart beating in her chest and the clicking of her prosthetics on the track are the only sounds.

It's come around again. Seven years ago, yesterday. She speeds up. It's stupid. It's childish. But throwing herself into the run like this, everything else falls away. Nothing else matters, nothing except the fluidity of motion, the singular purpose of movement.

And she can almost feel him running next to her.

Dad.

She aches to turn her head and catch a glimpse of him, to see his proud smile. But she can't, all she can do is run. Faster now.

She doesn't want to think about the grave she visited yesterday, or the tears her mother shed. She wants to look into his eyes, she wants to hold his hand. But she can't, she doesn't have time, she has to run.

What remains of her legs are on fire, even her trained, toned body is covered in sweat. The cool night air rushes past her, soothes her burning skin.

A car ride at night. The quiet, soft hum of the radio. They're going home.

Faster.

There's a noise, she doesn't even know what it is, a loud screeching.

No. Faster.

Something comes out of the distance, another car, she doesn't even have time to think--

She begins to pant, sucking in ragged breaths as she crosses the finish line yet again. Another lap.

Her father's voice, just repeating her name, over and over again. More and more quietly, each time.

No.

The grave again.

She has to go faster.

She's lost track of time, and everything else. Her body screams out to stop, but she can see it, just ahead. The finish line. Last lap, now. Behind her is the past, but ahead is the future, even though wherever she goes, she won't be able to--

Almost there. She can't stop now. She'll never stop, not for anything, not for anyone.

They said she might never walk again. All that physical therapy proved them wrong. She proved them wrong.

And if he were here. If he could see her. If he was watching now, he'd be--

Almost there. Almost there. She doesn't stop. She won't. She can't.

It's the closest she's come to seeing him in seven years.

She crosses the finish line, somewhere in her mind, a crowd roars, the cheers are deafening. She begins to slow down, her body immediately thanking her for it. Still panting, sweat dripping into her eyes, she scans the bleachers, looking for... looking for...

But he's not here.

He's not here.

The endorphin rush begins to fade, and now she's just a little girl, standing there alone on a dark track, desperately missing the one person she can never see again.

Dad.

Dad.

Dad.

She shivers in the cool night air.






“Run” is a song by Snow Patrol.