Rampage

“Come on, Ethan. Where are you?” I whispered the words to the empty air, looking around. When I had finally reached the house, I found the place in complete mess. It looked as if a hurricane had torn through the rooms; furniture was overturned, glass was shattered, and the curtains were ripped from their rods. He had gone ballistic. He must have woken up, found me gone, and assumed I had finally run away after our argument. I fought the urge to slap myself. What was I thinking? He wouldn’t have spiraled like this if I had just told him I was stepping out for a moment! But it was supposed to be a surprise, a peace offering. Now, he was on the loose in the city, likely hunting for me in a blind, animalistic rage. I could only pray he hadn’t killed anyone yet. My feet were numb from running, my lungs burning with every ragged breath. I stopped for a moment to steady myself, leaning against a brick wall as my heart pummeled against my ribs. Cars were honking. Drivers were