"Get him!" they scream, their heavy trampling footsteps just behind my own blurring feet, "Stab the motherfucker to death! Kill it!"

I run. I run as fast as I fucking can. Tears are streaming down my face as my vision becomes blurred, my legs become weak beneath me and I begin to fall and stumble. Sweat coats my forehead as my lungs continue to beg for air or for me to stop. But I can't stop running! Not yet anyway. They'll kill me if I do. I have to keep running down this old country lane with towering stone walls surrounding each side; keeping the endless fields of darkness at bay and stopping them from spilling into the road.

There is no light. There is no hope. All there is is me pelting it as fast as I can down an old country lane in the middle of nowhere with a group, brandishing glittering knives at me whilst threatening to stab me, chasing after me. Could this night get any worse?

Apparently so.

Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Mikey, sorry I was just a little pre-occupied with running for my own fucking life. But yeah…I'm Mikey.

"Don't let it get away!" A voice screamed from behind me. My head snapped around to see the group. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Six of them. Six knives. Six ways for me to die. Through the darkness I can see the knives as a dull grey colour gripped by raging fists. The darkness of their black suits made them almost invisible but the white shirts stood out like a heartbeat in a morgue. I heard breaths become heavier as a figure sprinted to the back of me so that I could feel his breath on my face, his black sunglasses hiding what I imagined to be evil eyes. He wore an evil smirk proudly on his lips as he brushed his bleach blond hair under his hat. There was almost a split second in which my blurred brown eyes met with the blue bullets of his eyes that stalked me from behind the sunglasses. It was only a matter of time until...my eyes grew wide as he plunged the hungry knife deep into my waiting leg.
I clutched my leg and screamed in pain as I fell to the floor; the rough stones of the road cutting deeply into my face.

"Got ya!" The voice from above yelled at me, throwing his foot onto my chest and pinning me there whilst picking his teeth with a wooden tooth pick.
"Let me go! Please!" I mumbled. My hands were drowning in my own blood that lay as a pool around me, the crimson liquid still rushing out of my leg. I couldn't breathe! I couldn’t move! There was no one to help me!
"Well done Vince!" I hear another voice growl as the group surrounds me, spitting and laughing at my shaking body.

I try to scramble to my feet in one last attempt but am only thrown back onto the ground.

"Where do you think you're going?!" A voice laughed, grabbing my hair and dragging me to my feet. A silver knife was brought to my throat now and I quivered with fear.
"W-who are you?!" I blurted out, shutting my eyes expecting for my throat to me slit straight away.
"We are death Michael James Way! We have come for all of your family and we thought that we'd start with YOU!!!"
"W-Why?! What have I ever done to you to deserve this?!"

My question was never answered, darkness consumed me as another knife was brought down deep into my body. I was thrown against the nearby wall with blood leaking from my head. My hands continued to shake as punches rained down on me and kicks bruised my shaking body. Blood and sick curdled in my stomach as I threw up, still struggling to breathe with gashes quickly forming in my flesh. I lay hugging my knees as my arm was jumped on and left numb without feeling. Tears mixed into the pool of blood and sick around me as my body began to tremble.

"Do ya think it's dead yet?" I heard a voice from above chuckle, I think it was the guy that stabbed me first so I think that he's this Vince guy. I heard a few huffed replies as footsteps began to move away from me.
"Death shall come to it soon!" a voice from above me exclaimed, a handkerchief folded neatly in his suit pocket and the chain of his golden pocket watch was dangling gently towards the earth.
"Oh shut up Harold with ya posh fucking Shakespeare voice!"
"Vincent; thou talk makes no sense compared to thine!"
"Fuck off Harold! My names Vince!"
"Guys. Shut up! Okay?!" Another voice interjected, though their voice was far off and distant, "He'll be dead soon anyway. Let's go!"

---

I was left unconscious and barely breathing in the middle of an old country lane with multiple stab wounds. My heart should have stopped beating and I should be in a coffin right now. I shouldn't have survived.

Notes

Um, hello again!
Another new story!
I need to stop thinking of new ideas because I'm writing another one too! Why do I do this?
Sorry for all the violence and swearing in this chapter, I hope it wasn't a waste of your time.
And sorry if updates are slow.
But thank you for reading anyhoo. :)
-Lou