Running for my life reminded me of a certain mad dog who kept chasing me when I was younger. That mad dog did everything its master told him to, and it always had its focused, dilated pupils on me.
A mad dog my father picked from the streets, raised as a loyal pet, and a hunting beast.
Damn it, why did I have to bump into that deranged guy?! Of all people?! I should have known that funeral halls are where they normally lurk around, forcing even the dead to pay them.
I turned to the corner. Once I knew I was out of his sight, I threw all my belongings over the fence of someone's backyard and then continued running for my limbs.
I'm not certain my father's ready to kill me once I'm caught, but I'm sure one of my limbs won't be safe.
