Running for my life reminded me of a certain mad dog who kept chasing me when I was younger.
That mad dog did everything its master told it to, and it always had its focused, dilated pupils on me.
A mad dog my father picked from the streets, raised as a loyal pet, and a hunting beast.
Damn it, why did I have to bump into that deranged guy?!
Of all people?!
I should have known that funeral halls were where they normally lurk, forcing even the dead to pay them.
I turned left to the corner. Once I knew I was out of his sight, I threw all my belongings over the fence of someone's backyard and then continued running for my limbs.
I wasn't certain if my father was ready to kill me once I was caught, but I was sure one of my limbs wouldn't be safe.
I jumped over the railings and landed two meters down on an underpass, then ran again. I knew, even without looking back, that I was still followed.
