The Boy

The boy was running. He didn't know why. He didn't know where. He didn't know how long he could last. All the boy knew was that if he stopped, it would get him. The lion behind him. Grunting and groaning as the lactic acid was building up in his legs. The boy could hear the lion's heavy breathing. The boy could hear the lion stamping his feet on the hard, relentless ground. The wall came out of nowhere and punched him the the face. "times up boy" said the lion. "don't hurt me, please. I won't tell anyone" "tell anyone what boy?". The words were lingering on the boys lips as the knife cut through his chest, puncturing a lung and slicing the heart in two.
The boy's name was Richard but the cold steel didn't care, all it cared about was making sure he never spoke another word again.