Come back to haunt you

O'Brien dodged into the doorway of a derelict building. His chest
felt as tight as drumskin and hurt like hell. His exhausted leg muscles
trembled. He desperately had to rest; as desperately as he knew that he
had to keep moving.
His is pursuers had wheels; he just had a pair of legs that seemed to
have given up. A few minutes rest, he decided, would give him the
strength to carry on.
They wouldn't give up; he was sure of that. Everyone had too much to
lose. In their case it was their authority and power. In his it was his
life.
Their silent ruthlessness had impressed him more than anything. The car
door had been opened and his name called out like a sentence of
death.
He knew that running was only likely to delay the inevitable but what
choice did he have.
A car came along the road sweeping its headlights before it. He pulled
himself back into the doorway of the empty house. He had a fanciful
image of himself in The Great Escape dodging the prison camp
searchlights. Until he remembered what had happened to so many of
them.
His breath came easier now although his legs still felt spongy and
useless. He could get away. If he could get to the station he could get
right away. Somewhere he wasn't known. Make a new start. Keep his down
and out of trouble.
There was still the risk that they'd catch up with him. But even a few
more months would make it worth the effort.
How did he end up in these situations? His whole life had been one long
lurch from failure to dismal failure. Everything went wrong although it
was seldom his fault. He overreached himself, tried to hard, took too
many risks, didn't think ahead, had no plan or purpose, let things
slide out of his control.
Suddenly a sound behind him froze his blood. Had they crept up the
other route and found his hiding place? Another sound. The one things
these people were was professional, they wouldn't be knocking over cans
or rustling papers.
He turned and saw a shaft of light that broke through the shattered
ceiling of the house illuminated a figure of a young boy who looked
familiar but he couldn't quite place him. A straight blond fringe
flopped across his brow and he smiled cherubically. Very slowly he drew
a hand from his pocket and waved in greeting.
He was astonished and fascinated by this sight and certainly didn't
expect what happened next. The boy opened and closed his mouth and it
took a few minutes to realise that he was singing. He heard the words
in his head.

You! You're driving me crazy!
What did I do?
Oh, what did I do?
My tears for you make everything hazy,
Clouding the skies of blue!

A deep sense of melancholy swept over him without knowing why. There
was something about this sight that stirred his deepest emotions.

How true!
Were the friends who were near me to cheer me,
Believe me, they knew,
But you!
Were the kind who would hurt me, desert me when I needed you!

So intent was he on the singer that he didn't hear the car stop and
the footsteps on gravel. And was only briefly aware of the bullet that
smashed into the back of his skull.