She drags herself out of the water, gripping the rocks as she pulls her body up. Her loose dress sticks to her legs. She begins to run, nearly falling as each foot slips on the rocks and mucky grass. Helicopters and sirens wail in the distance. She pushes herself to run faster, her feet slide in the mucky grass with each pounding foot, her breath appearing and disappearing in the cold night.
She stops for a second to catch her breath. The area around her is bright, the shine from nearby posts, the bridge, and the lighthouse, all cast an imaginary arrow at her location. Her lungs hurt with each deep breath she takes and her heart beats in her ears, making it hard for her to hear. She coughs a little and breathes deeply, knowing she has to continue.
There are more sirens, more lights, more action, and nowhere for her to hide. She begins to moan as a pain throbs in her side. She could hear men yelling, dogs barking, the lights are guiding them to her. She runs toward the Little Red Lighthouse, knowing this is exactly where they would look, she still runs toward it in need of a break. The ground is getting lighter, less mucky, her feet don’t sink in as much, and it is now a lot easier for her to run. Pushing the door open, she falls to the ground and kicks it shut. She lies there trying to catch her breath, shivering, mascara leaking down her face, dirt and grass decorate her legs; she breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth.
She knew she didn’t do it, why would she? She loves this man. Why was she running? Why was she putting herself in this situation where she looks like the bad guy? Who could have done this? Did they know who he was? Or was it just a ploy of getting her attention, getting her to confess her sins? These thoughts circled her mind like a shark would its prey. If she gets caught, the sweet taste of revenge will never touch her lips. Running was her only option.
Sirens grow closer. She inhales and prepares herself for a battle, one she knows she will lose.