I sprinted into the night.
Right, Left, Right, and Left again.
My feet stomped against the sidewalk.
Clutching my arm in pain.
Praying he would never find me.
I dashed into the city.
Tears threatening to stream down my face.
I gritted my teeth to keep back a scream of fury and agony.
Running about half-way into the city,
I huffed and collapsed into an alley.
It was dark.
The rain poured.
Shivering, I pulled back my hoodie.
The cut was glistening with crimson.
After grabbing my toolbox for a first aid kit, pulling out the disinfectant, then began to treat the wound properly.
When I had finished wrapping it, I gently put my hoodie back on and sighed.
Sniffing, I swallowed pain killers.
They left a soothing on my mouth.
Organizing my first aid kit, I placed it into its special spot into my dark grey backpack.
Inside neatly placed was 4 days worth of clothes, some food, water, hygienic instruments, my medications, my life savings, a radio, a childhood stuffed animal (named Crimson Red), and an extra binder.
Binder?
You may ask.
Yes.
A simple device that makes your chest flat.
...
I'm bigender.
(They/Them)
That's why.
When I finished making sure I had all my stuff.
I crawled into a damp paper box for shelter.
I thought about a few hours ago.