The rocks, the dirt, the gritty debris… I seemed to become part of the landscape. The only difference between myself and the stones was the blood. I was trying to climb away – up, the last place I wanted to be, further from the ground, but I had no other options. They were gaining. My body was exhausted. Every time I moved my body closer to the top, each limb grew heavier. It was my escape that astonished me. If I could make it out of this scenario, I might live to tell about it. I reached for another rock. I turned my head to look down at my pursuers. I lost my grip. My body descended to the trees below. There wasn’t any time to reach for anything to stop this fall. I thought I would make it, I really did. My heart sank, my stomach seemed to flip. The ground gained closer. I tried to scream, but I stared in shock. I saw their faces, also in disbelief or just in shock that it was over too soon. Or perhaps glad it ended. I snapped out of my stupor and reached for my side arm. If I was going to die, the people who tortured me were going to die too. Each bullet reached their heads just in time. My body smacked a tree limb and I felt my ribs crack. My body folded and my head hit a larger limb. That is all I know. Three dead assholes, and me, lying on the ground, broken – severely broken.