Ezra Prescott

The Safe House Escape - The New World The ride is silent as we make our way to the safe house. Until the sudden storm hits. Rain slashes against the windshield as my hand tightens on the door handle of the backseat. Everything happens so fast. Screams, glass breaking, metal crunching, then… Everything spins. The world is upside down. My heart lurches into my throat. I’m shaking so violently that I don’t know if I am dead or alive. Then a deafening silence. I cough. A sharp pain stabs my chest, and something wet and warm trickles down my face. My eyes slowly focus on the seat in front of me. Something, no, someone is slumped over, and their airbag is bloody. I blink, trying to bring my eyes back into focus. And then I realize it’s a guard. There’s a ringing sound. I try to focus on you, the stranger who’s been just as scared as I have been. Your head rests on the window. Your breath fogging up the glass, you’re alive. Light catches my eyes as I notice two figures running towards us. Men, they’re running, coming to save us? No, to hurt us. My eyes grow wide, and I shout. “RUN!” I grab your hand and push myself through the broken glass, ignoring the shards sticking in my legs and arms. My body is moving, adrenaline coursing through me, but I don’t care. We run, feet pounding against the ground, branches scratching our faces. My lungs burn. My ribs protest as I push my body forward, but I don’t care. All I can focus on is the sound of your footsteps behind me and the need to keep you safe. The world drops beneath us, air rushing past, your hand still locked in mine. For a second, we’re suspended, like time has stopped. Ezra Prescott, 23