Agent X

Come on! I urge my tired legs to keep pumping. Pump like pistons, get me away from Agent X.

The clacks of our running boots on the linoleum resound loudly in the deserted hallway of the hospital. I am running as fast as I can, but X is keeping up his relentless pursuit.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. My running boots and his running boots answer each other, duelling in the unnerving silence - the only sounds except the palpitation of my heart which is gaining in decibels in my head.

My legs are becoming heavier, like somebody just shot a syringe of lead into them. My mind tells me to stop fighting and give up, or was that X telling me? He plays mind games and he is omnipotent.

Finally, my legs turn to stone, and I fall down. Crumbles into a heap like yesterday's laundry being toppled from its pail.

I look up from the floor - myself a monumental wreck - staring into X's masked face. A white mask with slits for eyes. X pulls me up and holds me in a bear hug.

Summoning my fast fading strength, I flail my arms, kick out with my legs and struggle but I could not free myself from X's vice-like grip.

X's breath is very foul - and if I had something to fumigate that gap where the sickening odour is coming from, I would gladly do it. But I can't. His right hand has gone up to my neck; oh no, he's throttling me!

I can subconsciously feel my desperate movements losing their intensity, my brain has gone into a lull probably induced by the noxious vapours of X's foul breath and my perspiration, and I am falling...into a deep sleep.

My parents were grieving when they watched me at death's door. Lying on my bed in the hospital, my last moments were a struggle for me and for them. With a paroxysm, I expired and I heard their cries no more.