The sweat is pouring off of her as she runs. She is sure that she is not running fast enough or quiet enough to get away. She imagines the smile on her tormentors face as they track her. She knows that they are taking great pleasure in her fear. She can smell her own fear. She knows they can. The only question she really has is why her? What made them want to terrorize her? How did she draw their attention?
Truth be told it was nothing she did that got their attention. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was a game for them, a hunt. They enjoyed the rush that they felt in their blood as they chased someone. There was nothing like the thrill of smelling the fear in the sweat of a person. The adrenaline pumped and the high was the best that they had ever felt. Better than any drug or drink they had ever used.
The thoughts running through her head ranged from being afraid and being mad. A part of her wanted to stop and face them down, and the other part of her wanted to be able to get away. She was glad that she could run and knew the area. Maybe she could get away from them. She hoped that she could. Her chest hurt from the stress and the extra exertion from running so all out.