The painted mirror – part 10

It was a clumsy journey clamber running in the dark his breath raking his throat but Tim kept on. He was pushing himself near to dropping. Hands and arms and legs motored him through crevices and cracks as he bellied for low ceilings, and negotiated handholds. Every second he gained distance. He had to escape. He wasn´t conscious of this need. He certainly wouldn´t have known what was behind nor in front of him which was exactly why he collided into his brother at speed. The impact sent both of them sprawling. On opening his eyes, Tim noted a warm liquid trickling down his arm. When he put his finger to it, he discovered it was blood. Stunned, he tried to gauge his surroundings all thoughts of the pursuit gone.

“Robin,” said Tim.

Across from him the body of his brother lay sprawled out like a ragdoll.


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