Martin ran.

His sides ached, his cuts and bruises ached, his very bones ached, and his lungs burned with every hastily snached breath, but he kept on running, sweat streaming down his face and his heart beating painfully fast in his chest.
He was long past mere exhaustion, edging closer to passing out with every step.

But he could not stop. He mustn't stop. Mustn't get caught.
Martin ran as if his life depended on it.

It did.

His muscles had long since given out. It was the panic that kept moving his limbs.

Don't stop.
Mustn't get caught.
Hide.
Run.
Don't be seen.
Don't let him catch me.

Oh god, please don't let him catch me.

He could hear Walt's enormous shoes hitting the pavement in the distance, as the huge man followed at a fast walk, looking for his former captive, his long strides easily covering the distance between them, getting closer and closer.
The sound made Martin's insides freeze with fear.

He could almost feel the giant man's pudgy, sweaty fingers closing around his tiny body, hear the booming laugh as he squeezed and squeezed until Martin screamed,
feel his dirty nails cutting into Martin's flesh.
He could almost taste the overwhelming reek of the man's unwashed genitalia, the pain, the pressure, the laughter and moans, the stink and dirt that made him retch and the knowledge that he would never be clean again.

And the overwhelming and complete hopelessness...
Being weak and helpless, at the mercy of a monster.

Oh god...

The Pain.
The Humiliation.
The Starvation.
The Abuse.
The Begging.
The Punishments.

Martin ran.

Stay out of sight. Get away. Hide.
Tall Grass.
Bushes.
Trash can.
Open area. Sprint as fast as you can.
Stay low.
More bushes.
Must reach the bus stop.
People there.
Bags sitting on the ground.
Places to hide.
Slight detour. Stay beneath the hedge as long as you can.
He won't be able to check peoples bags.
He wouldn't want them to know.

Run!

Must reach the bus stop.

***

Sam stretched and yawned, then tried to get his lanky body into a more comfortable position.

He had spent all day in the uncomfortable chairs at the library, hunched over one book or another or staring at screens, aching to be outside the stuffy room and just move.
Instead, he had been forced to do the tedious research for his upcoming paper, going over charts, checking and double checking cross references and hunting down obscure bits of information until he felt the urge to slam his head against the nearest wall, just to be able to feel at least some relief from the sheer tedium of it all.
He'd managed a good amount of work, but even so, when he finally capitulated at half past five, he was still far from done, but rather could look forward to many more days of the same.

Sam sighted inwardly.

Now that he was finally free to move, he was far too exhausted to even stand. Funny really, considering he had done nothing but sit on his backside all day.

He checked his watch.

Sam had been lucky enough to catch the earliest tram out of the city center and now just had to wait for 10 instead of the usual 25 minutes for the 475 that would take him within walking distance of his home.
His back aching somewhat, he shifted in his seat, but to no avail. It was one of those wire-mesh constructions that you typically got at bus stops.

Some genius had decided that curving the seat and the back in a weird angle that forced anyone sitting there - who did not fit some apparently randomly chosen measurements to within an inch - to decide between a slightly hunched position and a rounded metal frame pressing against their spine, seemed like an awesome idea.
Sam idly wondered if the people who approved the notion had ever actually sat in one of those chairs.
Or maybe they were all the same exact size and had found them exceedingly comfortable.
Who knew.

Bored, Sam looked around.

Sailsbury Road was your typical run-of-the-mill suburban street.
More or less similar looking houses, more or less well-kept lawns in front.
Some hedges or flower patches here or there, and more or less well cared for middle-class cars parked in drive-ways or on the side of the street.
The most interesting thing in sight was a somewhat run down house with an over-grown lawn and a rusty old Volkswagen parked in front of it, and even that was only interesting by comparison, and not something providing any kind of what you might call entertainment value.

There were a few other people at the bus stop besides Sam, all waiting for the 475, because apparently, it was the only bus stopping at Sailsbury Road.
Some sat, some stood, all looking just as bored and dead-eyed as Sam felt (with the exception of a teenage girl, who was busily typing away at her phone. Her smaller frame seemed to fit quite comfortably into the seat aswell, Same noted, somewhat envious. His phone's battery had been dead for hours.)

He checked his watch again.

A few more minutes.
Then a short drive, and a short walk after that, and he would finally be home, free to stretch out on his couch, have a beer and let the tv turn his brain to mush, or play vidya, all the while pretending that his social life wasn't utterly and completely dead since his last breakup half a year ago.

When staring at his fellow commuters yielded nothing of interest, Sam instead settled on watching the red-faced, chubby man, half walking, half jogging towards them, along the street.
He looked fairly ridiculous in his crumpled, dirty button-down and too tight shorts, sweating even though the weather was fairly mild today.
His eyes were glued to the ground, and he would occasionally squat to peer behind a bush or underneath a car, and with an audible groan push himself up again, only to repeat the procedure a few feet further along the path.
He looked angry, and actually somewhat crazed, muttering under his breath all the while.

Sam usually didn't derive much pleasure from watching such... unfortunate souls, but in his boredom he was almost grateful for the entertainment provided by the middle-aged man's antics.

He was just about to settle in and watch the man approach when a movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention.
Something small was rushing from beneath the hedge of the closest plot towards the bus stop at a mad speed and hid itsself among the bags sitting on the pavement.
None of the other passengers had noticed anything, and, Sam supposed absently, it was quite a good hiding spot really.

It left the tiny creature shielded from view from almost all angles.

Almost.

Sam stared.

Hidden among the bags, panting heavily, close to collapsing from exhaustion, bruised and bloody, his dirty makeshift clothing in tatters and soaked in sweat was a tiny person.
He looked young and thin beneath the grime, his ash-blond hair sticking to his skull, and what Sam could see of his back and arms was covered in fresh scars, bruises, and even some open wounds.

''Holy Shit'', Sam cursed underneath his breath, absolutely dumbfounded by what he saw.

Even under ordinary circumstances, meeting someone who was, like, a little over 5 inches tall, would have been a little much to take in.
Sam was sure, had there been some cute, golden-locked fairy girl instead, she would have had a hell of a time trying to convince him she even existed, but this..

Not that Sam could really fully believe what he saw, but what with the guys injuries, his obvious desperation and terror, and an angry fat guy approaching who was so obviously searching for something - or, apparently someone - small - the whole 'woa, tiny people!' issue just kind of took a back-seat, as more important problems presented themselves.

Real or imaginary, Sam sure as hell didn't want the disgusting guy to get his hands on his tiny victim, especially so, as the man looked ready to kill.

At the sound of Sam's soft exclamation, the small creature whipped around, his eyes growing wide with fear, and his face turning into a mask of abject horror and desperation.

'No..', he whispered, almost too soft to hear.

'No, no, no, no, no.'

His tiny body started to shake, then, without warning, he deflated. All the energy seemed to leave him, and he just dropped to his knees, and his eyes empty, utterly defeated, he silently began to sob.