There are three important rules you should live by if you want to survive in this world. First, always look over your shoulder. Second, never trust anyone. And third, be ready to run at any moment.

Those were the three rules I played with, running from city to town, from mountain to beach, never staying too long to be found.

"Stephanie!" Someone called behind me.

It took me a moment to process the fact that I was Stephanie, or at least that was my name as I stayed at the beach town.

"Hi!" I shouted, turning around with a wide happy smile. I was here on vacation, and like any tourist on holiday, I had to act as cheerful as possible, "What's up?"

I knew the person in front of me was the daughter of the owner of the hostel I was staying at, since I had met her last night while rolling into the room I had been assigned with. Her name was Emily Stone, she was around sixteen, younger than me, long blond hair, and seemed to keep a façade of happiness around her, similar to the blanket of lies I had laid on top of me the moment I had neared the town.

Sending me a smile that didn't reach her eyes, she answered, "Oh, you know... Going to the beach! Want to come?"

"Sorry! I'm going for a run around the cliff side,"

Running was my way of hiding from the world, a way of disappearing and forgetting about my life problems, remembering my past as if it had been a dark movie.

"Oh... Do you want me to come with you? I can go and get changed in a moment... I know a place with amazing views!" She exclaimed gleefully, her façade only slipping for a millisecond as she talked about the landscape.

She was good, I had to admit, but for someone that had had to learn the hard way about human nature, I wasn't going to be fooled so easily. She might be able to make the whole town think she's a preppy little innocent angel, but deep down, I could see the pain she was going through, the hate towards herself and everyone else bringing out the primital side of her eyes.

"No thanks, I prefer to run alone."

Before she could come up with an excuse, I started running uphill, towards the tall grass that moved in sync with the wind.

As I sprinted over the green grass, the sweat forming all over my body dripping as the morning sun burned me alive, I remembered the times I would compete in races, one of the only times I actually felt like my mother was proud of me. In reality, thought, that was the only time she could win a bet, since most other people in her game would go with the older, more trained athletes, instead of the shy little chinese girl sitting in the corner, too introverted to even stand with the other children doing stretches, all a head taller than her.

She had only been using me, and I hadn't realised until the first time I had ever lost, when she had thrown me a metal pole as punishment, earning me the scar across my leg.

I was around eight at the time, and as an innocent child, I had actually thought that I had earned the cut, and ever since that day until I had left, I had done everything in my power to be the fastest, most agile runner.

I had loved my mother so much, that I had let her abuse me and still done everything in my power to become her little angel, for her to be proud of me.

So many morning and evenings wasted on a woman that now only wanted me back for my fame, the thing I had earned running around the track, trying to save the precious dream I had created of finally being accepted by my mother.

But the moment she had, the moment she had come over to me and given me a hug, pulling me towards her in her cold, thick arms, I had realised that she didn't accept me. She accepted my fame, she wanted my fame.

But I didn't care, because although it was fake, I could make myself believe my mother loved me.

She had tried, many times, marrying different wealthy men, going to important events and placing her name behind a bunch of important corporations.

But she had failed, and as I reached the tender age of sixteen, she had thrown another pole at me, this time cutting my stomach, leaving a deep scar in its way.

That had been the moment my fantasy had been crushed, the moment I had given up and gone my own way.

But it had been five years since that moment, the moment I had decided to pack my essentials and make a run for it, something I had been training my whole life for, something she had made me work for since I was two.

Now I had a new life, and although I was still searched for by the police due to my disappearance, the heat of that moment had gone down a bit, along with the fame my mother had managed to acquire, now only known by her wealth and poor manners.

But I kept running, changing my hair, my makeup and name as I reached new destinations, sometimes revisiting old ones if I liked them, or crossing them off the list if I got too close to someone, not wanting them to know my dark black secret.

And although my life could be all jewels and gold, I kept running, because although it was one of the things that tied me to my mother, it was also the only thing I was good at.

Running was my life, and the reason I even had one still.