Her feet hit the pavement hard. The sound of her sneakers smacking against the ground was no match against the pounding of her heart. She had to keep running. If she stopped…

Sweat had no chance to pool, trickling down or flicking off her skin from the constant movement. If she ran hard enough, she could blame the wetness on her face on being sweat, not the tears she was fighting so hard to stop releasing. Her muscles burned, almost as intensely as her eyes, but nowhere near as much as the burning she felt in her heart.

How could they? she screamed internally. How could they do this, knowing her as they did?

She tripped on a crack in the pavement and tumbled forward, rolling onto the grass next to the sidewalk. If it wasn’t nearly midnight, she’d have screamed and never stopped, finally deprived of the escape the momentum of her run had given her.

Now that she’d stopped, she’d have to think. Really think about what they’d done. The implications. The fact that nothing would ever be the same between them after that day.

The damp grass cooled her backside and a shiver ran up her spine. She began coughing, the blood pumping in her cheeks, her throat, her chest, her arms. After the coughing fit ceased, she pushed herself back up, and began walking back. She couldn’t stay out in front of some stranger’s lawn the whole night.

It had to be dealt with. Now.

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