Before I have the chance to stop her, Naya peeks around the corner. She doesn’t react the same way I did, with shoulders drawn and breath shaky. When I look again, the street is empty.
“What did you see?” she asks in a quiet voice, but I only shake my head.
Have I started hallucinating too? No, Iknowwhat I saw—what Naya probably saw all those times before. Fuck, I’m such a douchebag.
“Tell me,” she demands, and the expression on her face tells me she won’t give up until I tell the truth.
The wind picks up, sounding ominous in the alleyway as I utter those two words I didn’t think I would have to again.
“Emilio Ricci.”
Her face drains entirely of its color, the usual warmth of her skin replaced by an unsettling marble-like shade, reminiscent of a ghost with how translucent and ashen it almost seems. It’s as if the sharp gust of wind around us will scatter her into the air, mouth wide open and unable to utter any words.
“It’s probably nothing,” I try to assure her, but I still see the tangible panic in her mismatched eyes, closing for a second. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
She nods hesitantly, still shaken and face hollow. Her hand grabs mine in a steady grip, as if to assure herself that I’m here—that she’s not facing this alone.
I sling the backpack over my shoulder before we make our way in the opposite direction. Another glance over my shoulder reveals the street is just as empty, and lead settles deep in my stomach. Lack of sleep, sizzling anger, and nerves eating me alive must have made me hallucinate.He’s not here—he can’t be.
How the fuck would he even find us?
No, it’s not him.
The chilly temperature has Naya clinging to my body in an attempt for body warmth, and we move in the darkness of the night, sticking to alleyways and walls of buildings.
Then, an unsettling tingle spreads across my skin, sinking into my bloodstream, and an irresistible force urges me to turn around. Naya’s hand slips from mine as she turns around, too, and a nearly inaudible whimper escapes her, breaking my fucking heart.
An imposing man stands there, somehow much closer than when I last saw him, even though we walked in the opposite direction. It’s as if I’m sinking to the bottom of the ocean, with no chance of breaking free to the surface. Soon, my lungs will scream for oxygen, and I’ll be forced to inhale, knowing water will fill them instead, slowly drowning me.
“H-he’s there,” she whispers, voice quivering.
The raw fear in her eyes mirrors my own; glazing over with the outcome that might befall. My mind races, desperately grasping at straws and ways to reassure her, but there’s no hiding what’s right in front of us.
The air is thick, making it harder to breathe, as if I’m mentally down in that ocean. Every shadow in the alleyway holds an ominous threat—they know what’s awaiting, and what willhappen if we don’t get away.
“How the fuck did he find us?” I curse, voice steadier than what the rest of me is.
I swallow to push down the rising tide of panic clogging my throat. Dread wants to render me motionless, but survival instincts take over as I squeeze Naya’s hand harshly, dragging her with me while escaping a ghost we haven’t seen for over a year.
As if the universe itself senses our emotions, a suffocating weight settles, fear coating my tongue with a bitter taste as we turn and run.
He’s there behind us—I’m sure it’s him, but how did he find us?
We’ve been under the radar ever since escaping the dollhouse, hiding amongst society to keep a low profile.
My legs carry me forward, dragging Naya behind me as I push her to her limits. We’re running until our legs can’t carry our weights anymore, through the lonely streets of the city, with no civilization in sight. We continue until our muscles burn with the effort, lactic acid building up like a tide creeping over sandy shores, until the ground is swallowed. Each step feels like a death sentence, knowing anyone can hear and see us. What’s worse is that the authorities might find us—we’re no longer in hiding, and it would be easy to notice two people running for their lives in the midst of the night.
With every alleyway we pass, our pace quickens despite muscles screaming for rest. The city’s labyrinth of narrow streets feels like an entity, intending to swallow us down like quicksand, yet we cannot stop. We need to get as far away from the city as we can; need to escape even if it means fleeing to the ends of the earth.
I will not be captured again. I refuse to be a lamb led to slaughter when I’m the very predator roaming inside my head.
Streetlights hurl long, menacing shadows across the walls as if reaching out to grab us, ready to engulf us in a never-ending abyss of horror. My brain is a cacophony of chaos, trying to make sense of how he found us, but logic fails me.
The passage of time splinters into short fragments, where minutes become hours as time moves on.
An idea strikes me, one that feels surreal and impossible. There’s only one thing we can do to ensure our survival.
We need to ensure he can never hurt us again.
