Page 120 of Unbalanced

Then I hear it. A laugh with the same robotic modulator as the mask on my face. It’s like I’m laughing at myself.

Did this motherfucker just laugh at me?

A boiling rage floods my veins.

“You think this is fucking funny,” I ask, in the same robotic voice.

Another laugh, but I’m closer this time. I launch forward, pushing myself harder than I’ve ever run before. The anger I’ve kept locked behind tailored suits, expensive watches, and courtroom smiles tears through me.

“You’ve been inside my home.”

They run faster.

“You’ve touched my things.”

A chuckle.

“You killed people I know.”

My boots pound harder.

“And you think you’re going to lead me into the fucking woods and play with me?”

I catch the flash of the mirrored mask.

“You’re going to die!”

My voice tears through the forest. An owl explodes from the branches overhead, wings beating wildly into the night.

They jump aside and slow half a step.

Good.

I want them to understand what a spectacularly stupid decision it is to lure me onto my own property and believe for one second that they’re still the predator.

“You better keep fucking running,” I snarl.

Because when I catch you, we’re going to have a very different conversation.

The path dips sharply downhill. They must know what’s coming, because they gracefully jump over a fallen log.

I notice a fraction too late. My foot hits the top and throws me off balance. I catch a tree with my shoulder hard enough to send pain shooting down my arm, but my momentum and the slope keep me moving.

They’re using the terrain against me because they know it better than I do. Humiliation settles in my stomach. I’ve become arrogant and passive. I should’ve known this was here. It’s my property and my woods. The realization pushes something in me past rage.

Every piece of my life has a place. Every object. Every relationship. Every secret. Balance. Order. Control. This person has been and still is moving through all of it without my permission. Adding themselves seamlessly. Changing things without permission. Moving pieces when I wasn’t looking and making them their own. And I never fucking noticed.

That pisses me off more than everything else.

The trail levels out, and I immediately gain ground. They slow ever so slightly, but I run with extreme weight strapped to my back, masks on my face, and climb mountains in my spare time. This…this is nothing.

Eight strides.

Six.

They glance back once more, and a flash of lightning slices overhead and through the branches, illuminating the mask and a wisp of hair.

What the fuck?