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33.33% My turn to Protect HIM / Chapter 4: Hell

Chapter 4: Hell

HER LUNGS BURNED.

Her feet stung. Her legs ached.

Her side hurt. Her neck hurt. 

Every inch of her screamed with fear.

Run. Run. Run.

Aelin lowered her head, pushing harder, forcing her body to find non-existent energy and propel herself from hell toward salvation.

She was covered in blood. Not her. It was still warm from spurting from that girl's body, who was shot in the head right in front of her.

There are wolves circling around the forest hunting the girls and gunshots from above. And she was one of the girls. That man was sitting in his room like a king watching the girls run for their life like pests, enjoying the game. Yes! This was a game for them.

She had no idea where she was going. She had no idea where she was. She had no idea what was out there. And She didn't care. She just needed to survive.

Then she heard the hungry growls of wolves beside her, and she knew that they were near.

She didn't have to look.

The wolves were coming after her.

She knew it.

She ran faster, sprinting, the pain in her side agonizing but she kept going as fast as she could.

With her heart whizzing, she bypassed woodland trails, avoided muddy paths, and obscured her scent as much as possible.

But she knew in her heart, it wouldn't be good enough.

And sure enough, a wolf larger than the ones following her lunged at her from the front.

She knew it was impossible to fight a wolf a size that large barehanded without any martial arts, so she did what she thought was the best choice at that moment. She sacrificed her left hand because legs are important. They are needed for you to run to escape but hands, she can do without it for the time being.

And she ran again, grunting, panting, ignoring the pain, minimizing the blood loss as much as possible.

But then she lost consciousness.

When she woke up she has bound in her prison again. She was still alive but she failed to escape that man.

That was the last time she played music. When she was a captive to that man she used to play happy, hopeful music. She wanted to dream of a life beyond that hell. She wanted hope. So, she had music. It was the only thing that man ever gave her.

But now touching the white piano, she played bleeding her heart out. She started playing a slow, gentle yet a dark heartbreaking tune. The tune began more melancholy as she became dazed lost in her emotions.


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