A Run in the Rain

Words - 689
A Run in the Rain

Chris ran along the wet path through the field. The steady, light rain created shallow puddles which he jumped as he ran. Every now and then a spot where the grass was worn away revealed slick patches of mud. He knew if he was going to get home to his coffee pot and that perfect first cup of coffee he had to avoid those patches. A twisted or broken ankle out here would ruin his day.
Everything was damp. The rain had soaked through his clothes and he was pretty sure he would have several spots that would begin chafing before long. This thought caused him to push even harder and he picked up his pace. Chris chanced a glance over his shoulder, nothing there. A chill ran through him and he began to shiver. A fleeting thought ran through his mind, “Why am I running?” Another glance over his shoulder and he thought he saw a dark figure running toward him.
His heart pounded in his chest and he ran faster. “Someone or something is chasing me. Why? Without a second thought he veered off the path and into the unforgiving forest. Low hanging branches slapped against his face and shoulders while the lower brush grabbed at his legs. He jumped and slid and ran harder. He gave no thought to possible injuries he could suffer by running into the unknown.
“You’re going to pay,” a disembodied voice said, almost like a whisper in his ear.
He remembered a car accident he had while driving. He had been drinking and someone was killed. “Who was it?” he thought.
“You killed her. You killed Gena!”
The voice was in his ear again and everything came back at once. He was driving the car, his fiancée with him. They’d left a party where he had been drinking. Gena begged him to let her drive but in his drunken state he refused. Now she was dead and he was running. He looked toward his feet and realized he had no shoes. His pants were ragged and bloody. His arm was cut and blood oozed through his torn shirt. “Did I run from the accident?” he thought. “I’ve got to go back.” Chris opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. He cried and fell to the ground.
“I give up,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve to live.”

The steady beep of a heart monitor sounded in the sterile room. Tubes ran from an IV bag to the arm of the man in the bed. Gauze covered his arms, one leg, and his head. In a chair next to the bed a man sat with his chin resting on his chest. Tears covered his cheeks and deep sobs racked his body.

“That’s a real shame,” a nurse in the hallway whispered as she looked through the door.
“What happened?” a lady who was passing asked, pausing to look.
“He was in a car accident and it doesn’t look like he’s going to make it.”
“Who is that in the chair next to him?”
“I'm not sure but it could be his father.”

In the room the man sobbed and wiped his eyes. He leaned forward and whispered into the ear of the patient, “You’re going to die if I have to kill you myself. You killed my daughter and you’re going to pay. You're going to pay for Gena's life.”

In the rain soaked forest Chris sat with his back against a large tree. Thoughts of Gena and what they had planned danced in his mind. The accident became clearer. He now remembered letting Gena drive. She was so convincing when she said she was in better shape to drive than he was. When the car rolled she was thrown into a ditch and somehow he ended up on the driver’s side. He remembered calling for her when he regained consciousness for a short time. She didn’t answer. He later woke long enough to hear one of the medics mention the girl was dead. It was more than he could take. He was running away from the accident but somehow he knew he was only running in his mind. The voice whispering to him must be Gena's father. He was hurting. Her father told him he was as good as dead and that was fine with him. He didn’t want to live in a world without Gena.