Marco... (A Short Story)
The cold rain began to fall harder, washing what was left of Jill’s makeup from her face. Normally, the self-conscious 27-year-old blonde would be concerned about that but as she stopped running, both to catch her breath and to examine the slash on her arm that was gushing blood, it was the furthest thing from her mind. She knew she shouldn’t have stopped. Her life depended on her running or at least walking. However, her head was already starting to feel light, and she wasn’t going to get much further if she didn’t get the blood loss under control. Removing her jacket, which wasn’t doing anything to keep her warm anyway, she rolled it up and, with difficulty, wrapped it over the wound. Jill was about to begin running again when she heard the terrifying voice overtop the sound of the raindrops. “Marco!” Tears began to run down Jill’s face as she covered her mouth. Her legs were frozen, as though glued to the ground and an overwhelming urge to respond filled her body. Jill was only able...