Run.

Here is a piece I wrote in which I explored one of the most interesting characters I have ever written about - I hope you like it :) 

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Hope is a dangerous thing. 

When it works its way into your heart, it's incredibly difficult to get rid of - and all rational thought goes out the window. I find that I prefer to live without it. Without the crushing feeling of disappointment that hits you like a freight train when a scenario you've only built up on your head doesn't come to fruition - even if there were signs all along that it was never going to. This theory of mine tends to disturb people, and I can come off as cynical and pessimistic. Nevertheless, it has served me just fine. Well, maybe not in this case. 

I'm running. The intense pounding of my heart roars in my ears and amplifies everything I'm feeling, as my feet beat down on the earth below. Blood-curdling howls sound from somewhere behind me, and my breath catches in my throat. Fear grips me and chills every bone in my body. However, right now I cannot afford to be paralysed by my inconsequential feelings - and a sense of impending doom presses me to go on. A fallen branch causes me to trip, and for the second I was lying on the ground before getting up to run again - I understand the gravity of the situation, and the smallest sliver of hope I've allowed myself to feel in years warms my body. The fall has scuffed my knee, and when I get back up, I have a slight limp. 

Putting my all into getting away, I make the terrible split-second decision of looking back. 

Not seeing the edge of the cliff. The wolves are close.

And suddenly I'm falling. 

Hope is a dangerous thing.