Today's OneWord: Flee

Of the six of us remaining - the six of us, bloodied, bruised, beaten nearly to individual pulp that still managed to breathe through one nostril and talk out of one side of the mouth - four decided to flee. Two of us didn't. One of those two was me. I propped my aching body against the nearest wall, trying to inhale and exhale rhythmically and ignore the pain in my broken ribs. The second of the two was my little sister, trying to stop the crimson streaks still oozing from the gashes on my arms.