I was running. Hard. As hard and as fast as I could, frantically pushing my tiny body far past its limit, arms pumping hard at my sides, breath rasping from my throat, heart thundering painfully against my ribs, wind ripping through my long, ratted hair; desperation clawing it's way into my mind. I was always running here. The tight, straining pain in my legs was beginning to become something I expected, waited for, anticipated. I didn't know where I was or where I was going-where I was running to, only that I needed to get away from here, sensing the approaching danger before I saw it, creeping through the unknown. I needed to run, to keep moving. Fast, find somewhere where I could hide. As fast as I could. The throbbing, pinching ache in my calves was quickly becoming unbearable.

It was dark here, so terribly dark, the type of darkness that forces a sense of foreboding, anxiety, panic to crawl up from your stomach, into your chest, swim through your mind. It crushes you, eyes darting-frantically searching for any source of light. The moon showed me no pity tonight, no soft, silver light to guide my way through the smothering darkness. There weren't even any stars gracing the pitch black night sky. I couldn't see a thing-surrounded by heavily falling snow, caught in a horrible blizzard. The air was so thick with tiny, jagged shards of white flakes-falling sharply against my delicate skin, stinging like thousands of tiny needles against my exposed flesh, cutting and burning me, making me cringe and shake, gritting my teeth. And it was cold. So very, very cold. It hurt to inhale it's coldness, making me cough terribly against the wind. The wind bit sharp and unforgiving into my already aching skin, chilling me to the very bone-threatening frostbite, a dangerous warning. It howled loudly in my ears, deafening, screaming at me to seek safety, shelter.

How much more could such a tiny body possibly take? I already felt as if I had been pummeled over and over again, aching to my very bones, bruised and week. A sickening feeling of nostalgia began to creep its way slowly up my spine-chilling, creeping fingers worming their way through the most private parts of my body-into my very sub-consciousness, squinting hard against the stinging wind.

I've been here before, I knew I have. It was all too familiar; the snow, the frost, the ice, the darkness. And I wasn't alone here either. I could hear It behind me now, always, no matter how quickly or how long I ran, footsteps crunching in the snow-heavy and dragging; breath, snarling, gasping, claws slashing through the freezing air; desperate to get ahold of me, teeth, biting, always on my heels.

How did I get here? And where am I going? Why was I here?

I couldn't think straight now. Panic was beginning to take over my every sense, choking me, suffocating, clouding my mind. I wanted to turn around and look at It, see what was following me, what was chasing me. But I knew doing that would make it all too real, this, whatever this was. It would slow me down, and It would capture me. It was getting harder and harder to breathe now-all this running. My chest felt so tight from the lack of oxygen-from running so hard, my throat burned and my lungs were screaming out for relief. Each breath I dragged into my ragged and raw throat tore and ached-threatening to freeze my very insides if I didn't stop now and rest, the air was so very cold. My body begged for relief, pled for it, demanded I stop now. The strain was too much for my little heart to bare, my tiny legs. But I knew that if I stopped running now It would get me. And I didn't want that to happen. That thought alone sent ice coursing through my veins and pushed my little feet harder, pressing me farther, faster than I thought ever possible-the pain forcing me to realize that this was no nightmare. This was real. I was actually here. There really was a monster behind me, chasing after me, after my very tiny, very fragile life. Wanting it, needing it. But there had to be a reason for it all. For all this running, for all this pain, and for all this fear.

Have I ever felt fear before now? Just thinking about what might happen to me if that demon were to catch up was enough to make my heart want to stop, my stomach churn. Why was I being chased, haunted, tormented? How did I get here? Why was I here? Why? WHY? That question...that question burned at me, that 'why'. Repeating over and over in my mind again and again, clawing at my brain, digging down deep, begging, pleading, screaming at me to answer! I felt as though that question alone would drive me mad, insane. I wanted to be answered, I needed to be answered. I wanted an explanation. But I was alone here. There was no one around to help me, to save me, to answer me, rescue me from this monstrous demon, this nightmare, these nagging questions-my own frightening, tormenting thoughts, the very night air that threatened to freeze me in place, to turn me to ice. I didn't have answers! Why?

I felt a clawed, icy cold hand grip my forearm, pulling hard, dragging me back, straining the socket. Even through my heavy winter coat I could feel It's icy cold grip on my skin-claws digging in deep. I screamed, loud and shrill, the sound echoing across the empty plain-not in pain; though it was horribly painful-but in fear, in absolute terror-ice gripping my heart, colder than the frigid air surrounding me, colder than the snow, colder than this monster's claws-and I didn't even recognize that sound, that sound that was tearing it's way out from my tiny little throat. Fear. Have I ever felt so frightened before now, in this very moment? I couldn't remember a time when I ever did, such a foreign feeling pressing out of my pores. I couldn't remember anything.

Why am I here? How did I ever get to such a place?

I looked into It's eyes, then-lifting my chin up to face It-they were red-It's eyes, red like blood, and filled with an unholy, lustrous rage that my small little heart couldn't comprehend. And yet I knew-deep in my heart, somehow-that It meant to harm me, this creature that stalked me relentlessly through the dark of night, never giving up, never backing down, haunting me for an eternity. I saw Hell, there, in It's bloody red stare. I'd never known Hell, till now. But I saw it there and I knew it for what it was.

I fell backwards-a last resort-a fatal error, the mistake that was going to cost me my life now-wanting to put distance between us-as much as I could, needing to get away from this monster, this demon. I knew it meant to kill me. It wanted to kill me. It was like It needed to kill me. My life was in It's vicious claws and I could not find my voice to beg It too set me free, nor did I have the strength to fight back. I was so small, so young and frail, and so very weak. Yet somehow I knew that even if I could scream and yell, beg for my life, for It to let me go, It wouldn't be up for listening, for bargaining-though I had nothing of value I could offer It. I was only a child, and I was so very lost here. Here, in this white wasteland, going no where, left to wonder, maybe even left to die.

The snow was thick and cushioned the landing as my body fell hard against the freezing cold ground-losing my breath upon impact. I threw my arms out before me-creating a barrier of sorts-fragile and sad though it was-a wall between me and the monster-the only form of self-defense my tiny, small, and otherwise completely defenseless body could offer up. There was still that nagging question tugging at the back, dark recesses of my mind, begging to be answered, tugging, pleading, prodding through my brain, racking around for any possible explanation-why was I here? How did I get here? Why?

I looked up at It now, as It loomed over me, wanting to see my fate-needing to see this creature for all that It was, the objects that lie deep within Hell, what do they look like? And why do they feed off the of the lives of the living?-but deep in my small heart I somehow already knew the outcome of this situation. My fate, how this would end. It was almost as if in some strange ironic, twisted, and demented world I've been here before and for some reason, I knew I would be here again. Time and time again. Forever. I would never be able to escape my fate. I could see myself now, reflected in It's demonic red eyes, casting an unholy glow, boring into the very farthest depths of my tiny soul, seeing me, seeing everything and nothing-why couldn't I remember? I didn't recognize the terrified little girl that was staring back at me.

The demons will always find me. Like a repeating nightmare I would never be able to escape from, my own personal Hell, trapped forever in never-ending torment. The muscles in my legs still burned, aching from overuse, the pain reminding me that this was still reality. That quiet 'why?' resounded softly in the far depths of my head now, over and over, no more than a soft whisper now, a quiet buzzing-barely audible, hardly noticeable anymore.

The snow fell thick and heavy against my cheeks, collecting on my eyelashes, blurring the frightening demon before me, twisting and misshaping It's already incomprehensible appearance. Or maybe they were my tears, pricking at my eyes, stinging and burning, threatening too overflow-freezing unrelentingly against my cheeks. I was too scared to tell which, too scared to notice how my body was reacting anymore. All I noticed was the fear. It didn't matter anyway-whether the first or the latter-this monster knew I was weak already, that It had already won. It knew I was afraid. Even if I had the strength to fight back-the will to fight for my tiny, insignificant life-I would be easily overpowered. My skin was colder than ice but I was no longer shivering, adrenaline flowing through my veins, I felt so numb. It doesn't matter how fast I try to run. It's terrible eyes locked deep into mine, freezing my heat and I knew it was all over. I couldn't look away. This was it.

"Your blood." It croaked out of It's wretched throat, warm breath fogging out around It's head like a soft cloud against the much colder air. And I knew I would remember It's voice forever-branding itself into my brain.

It doesn't matter how hard I struggle and fight against it.

It had fangs that extended threateningly below It's jaw, saliva dripping to the ground, eyes crazed, darting madly-looking at everything and nothing all at the same time. It's hands were on me now, pressing me deeper and harder into the freezing cold snow, cutting off all chance of escape. I could feel It's fowl breath fanning across my tender throat.

This was it.

I would never escape these demons.

Not now.

Not this time.

Not anytime.

Not ever.

"I want it all!"