The air was brittle and cold. My teeth chattered. I ran across the asphalt into the woods. The sky broke open and snowflakes fell around me like dying moths.
I didn’t get far. Each step sent shockwaves of pain to my knee. I slipped and fell facedown in the snow. I got up, but I couldn’t get enough traction to get any speed. The man was right behind me. He grabbed me around the waist and flung me to the ground. He crawled over me and slugged the side of my face with his fist. He took something out of his pocket and flicked it open.
“You made me do this,” he said, pushing a knife between my ribs. Its point cut through my jacket and touched my skin. He started to cry. “I didn’t want to do this, but you made me.”
At first it felt like a pencil point. Then it stung. Then it felt like fire, and the pain stopped my breath. I was afraid to move because I thought the knife would go into my heart.