There's something very fascinating about the change of wind. It doesn't brush up against her cheeks in an attempt to knock her to the cold cracked pavement, it's instead lingering around her frame and giving her a reason to push forward. All she wants is to be alone.
The lights stack up, repeatedly blinding her from the two feet that cross paths, make a path for her. The funny thing, for a situation like this where running for such a long time kills her, she feels like it's almost worth bursting her lungs. It's almost worth it if it means never looking back and never giving in.
The streetlights are lining up and lighting the way for her but all they really do is cause shadows and she's more afraid of admitting that she's frightened than she is frightened at all. Up, ahead she sees the flashing of the police come to drag her where nightmares never end and sleep is always impossible. She can't go back, she just needs to get the hell away.
The darkness is closing in and she can't help but curse the grounds she walks. Her pale little body is like bait in the night air and right around now, the wind isn't so fascinating. It's her worst friend. She's starting to dread the twists and turns of the sidewalk and begins to fade out, not exactly realizing where she's going, but not exactly lost either. But the night seems to drag on and she knows it's not safe walking around this neighborhood, where drive bys are common and victims are naive. If it weren't for the sudden change of the wind, she would have never turned back.