A Giant's Hands [ON HOLD]

Chapter 3a [MARTIN] - The 200-Yard Marathon

Martin ran.

His sides ached, his cuts and bruises ached, his very bones ached, and his lungs burned with every hastily snached breath, but he kept on running, sweat streaming down his face and his heart beating painfully fast in his chest.
He was long past mere exhaustion, edging closer to passing out with every step.

But he could not stop. He mustn't stop. Mustn't get caught.
Martin ran as if his life depended on it.

It did.

His muscles had long since given out. It was the panic that kept moving his limbs.

Don't stop.
Mustn't get caught.
Hide.
Run.
Don't be seen.
Don't let him catch me.

Oh god, please don't let him catch me.

He could hear Walt's enormous shoes hitting the pavement in the distance, as the huge man followed at a fast walk, looking for his former captive, his long strides easily covering the distance between them, getting closer and closer.
The sound made Martin's insides freeze with fear.

He could almost feel the giant man's pudgy, sweaty fingers closing around his tiny body, hear the booming laugh as he squeezed and squeezed until Martin screamed,
feel his dirty nails cutting into Martin's flesh.
He could almost taste the overwhelming reek of the man's unwashed genitalia, the pain, the pressure, the laughter and moans, the stink and dirt that made him retch and the knowledge that he would never be clean again.

And the overwhelming and complete hopelessness...
Being weak and helpless, at the mercy of a monster.

Oh god...

The Pain.
The Humiliation.
The Starvation.
The Abuse.
The Begging.
The Punishments.

Martin ran.

Stay out of sight. Get away. Hide.
Tall Grass.
Bushes.
Trash can.
Open area. Sprint as fast as you can.
Stay low.
More bushes.
Must reach the bus stop.
People there.
Bags sitting on the ground.
Places to hide.
Slight detour. Stay beneath the hedge as long as you can.
He won't be able to check peoples bags.
He wouldn't want them to know.

Run!

Must reach the bus stop.

***

Sam stretched and yawned, then tried to get his lanky body into a more comfortable position.

He had spent all day in the uncomfortable chairs at the library, hunched over one book or another or staring at screens, aching to be outside the stuffy room and just move.
Instead, he had been forced to do the tedious research for his upcoming paper, going over charts, checking and double checking cross references and hunting down obscure bits of information until he felt the urge to slam his head against the nearest wall, just to be able to feel at least some relief from the sheer tedium of it all.
He'd managed a good amount of work, but even so, when he finally capitulated at half past five, he was still far from done, but rather could look forward to many more days of the same.