Fear is a funny little thing. It grasps you tight and stabs you like a knife. It twists and pulls at your gut leaving you shaking and breathless. It’s a fantastic feeling, and I treasure the rush. 

I treasure it, but I loathe it. I run from the wolves, I jump from trees going higher and higher each time, but the rush is so hard to get. I want to feel true fear. The fear of being chased and the risk of being caught. That's how I got here. Hiding in the forest, 40 feet up with searchlights sweeping for me. I should probably tell you how I got here first though.

It was a Tuesday. A normal, unassuming Tuesday. A slow, boring Tuesday. I was sitting at my desk in an office building that looked like all the others, working through the mountain of paperwork on my desk. I wanted to run. To go skydiving, bungee jumping or cliff diving. Something terrifying. Something thrilling.

It was later and I was walking home. My gut told me to take the long way home that day. I listened. I didn't regret it. I was roughly halfway home when it happened. I guess I looked like an easy target, but suddenly I was pushed into an alley by a group of what appeared to be men dressed all in black. I felt that breathless fear I cherished so much. Then, the knives came out and with the knives came the cliche spiel of “Give us your money or we'll kill you.” I could only laugh. In my search for the thrill of fear I took multiple self-defense and boxing classes hoping to find the fear that a fight could bring. Unfortunately it only worked for a short while at each class, but fortunately I retained the skills from the classes. As I laugh they lunge at me with knives outstretched. I sidestepped the first blade and grabbed the arm of my attacker, twisting it until it broke. He let out a scream and the knife clattered to the ground. I snatched it up and turned to face the remaining two men. The fear pulsed through me. I smiled

I slashed and blood flew. I’d hit his throat. He would die in minutes. There was one left. He also held a knife. He jumped at me and I ducked. The knife clashed against the wall and he cursed. I slashed at his legs. I connected and I was sprayed in the face with his blood. I must have hit an artery. He dropped to the ground and I stood. I heard a scream at the mouth of the alley. My pulse jumped and I turned to the noise with a smile. I saw a person who, as I looked, pulled out their phone and dialed a number. My grin widened and I rushed out of the alley dropping the knife as I did. I ran. I heard sirens in the distance. I did not stop even as the sirens got closer. I took turn after turn, my pulse racing with the adrenaline of the fear I so craved. I ran to where I knew they would not find me. The forest. 

So there you have it. My story. Why I'm in this tree and why they're searching for me. I've killed at least one person, maybe more. But, I would do it again, and again just for that rush of fear and adrenaline. Though perhaps that is the scariest part?