I yanked both kids with me, almost dragging them toward the back door.
My heart was pounding wildly in my chest.
Each beat.
So fast I felt like I couldn't breathe.
BANG!!!
The front door behind us shook violently again.
"STOP!"
The man roared.
No more imitation.
No more pretending.
I didn't look back.
I didn't dare.
One second slower—
and everything would be over.
The back door.
My hands trembled as I twisted the lock.
Once.
It slipped.
Twice.
Still wouldn't open.
"Calm down… calm down…"
I whispered to myself.
My hands were slick with sweat.
I wiped them quickly against my shirt and gripped the handle again.
Click.
The door opened.
A rush of cold air hit my face.
I practically dragged both kids outside.
The alley behind the house was dark and narrow.
Not a single soul in sight.
Only dim yellow light spilling onto the damp concrete.
"Mom…"
My daughter was still sobbing uncontrollably.
"I'm scared…"
"Shh."
I held her tighter.
"Don't cry. Listen to me."
But my own voice… was shaking.
BANG!!!
The front door finally gave way.
The sound echoed all the way outside.
He was in.
I glanced back.
A figure appeared briefly at the end of the hallway inside.
Just for a second—
but enough.
He was tall.
Broad-shouldered.
And running this way.
"RUN!"
I shouted.
The three of us took off.
Footsteps thundered behind us.
Fast.
Too fast.
He was catching up.
My phone buzzed.
I didn't stop.
Just glanced down.
"Turn left."
I didn't think.
I pulled the kids sharply into a narrow alley on the left.
Smaller.
Darker.
Deeper.
"Mom… I can't run…"
My son was gasping.
His pace slowed.
I clenched my teeth. We couldn't stop. We weren't allowed to.
I lifted my daughter with one arm.
Grabbed my son with the other.
"Keep going!"
"Just a little more!"
Behind us
his footsteps were closer now.
Close enough that I could hear his breathing.
"STOP!!!"
He shouted.
I turned another corner and froze.
Dead end.
My heart dropped.
No way out.
No escape.
"Mom…"
Both kids clung to me.
I turned back.
The man… was already at the entrance of the alley.
Walking toward us.
Slowly.
Not rushing.
As if he already knew—
we couldn't get away.
The streetlight fell across his face.
I squinted.
Trying to see clearly.
But the cap was pulled low.
Hiding most of it.
All I could see—
was a smile.
Cold.
Twisted.
"Go on."
he said.
His voice low and rough.
"Let's see how far you can run."
I stepped back.
Once.
Twice.
Until my back hit the wall.
Nowhere left.
It was real.
I tightened my grip on the kids.
My mind raced.
What do I do?
What do I
TING.
My phone buzzed.
A new message.
"Look up."
I froze.
Then instinctively looked up.
On the second floor of the building next door , a window flew open.
"Over here!"
A woman's voice.
It was her.
"Climb!"
She threw down a rope.
"NOW!"
I didn't hesitate.
Not even for a second.
I pushed my son forward.
"Climb!"
He trembled.
"I… I can't—"
"CLIMB!"
I screamed.
My voice almost breaking.
Behind us
the man lunged forward.
Faster.
More desperate.
My son grabbed the rope.
I pushed him up.
My daughter was still crying in my arms.
I held her tighter.
"FASTER!"
the woman shouted from above.
I lifted my daughter first.
Guided her hands onto the rope.
Her fingers trembled violently.
"Mom…"
"It's okay."
I said quickly.
"I'm right here."
Behind me , he was only a few steps away.
I shoved them upward.
Both kids started climbing.
I turned back.
Standing between him and them.
My heart was racing wildly.
But this timeI didn't step back.
He stopped.
Just a few meters away.
Looked up.
Then looked at me.
Smiled.
"You think… you can get away?"
I clenched my fists.
My voice turned cold.
"At least… not today."
At that exact moment a sound came from behind him.
Footsteps.
More than one person. He turned his head.
Just for a second.
But enough.
I spun around grabbed the rope.
Started climbing. Didn't look back. Didn't dare.
And for the first time
I realized something.
This game…didn't have just
The wind whipped hard against my face as I clung to the rope, every finger burning from the strain. Below, chaotic footsteps echoed—voices overlapping, more than one person closing in fast.
"MOVE!"
The woman above leaned down, reaching for us as my son neared the top. He trembled, nearly slipping, and I gritted my teeth, pushing him up from below.
"Don't look down!"
A hand grabbed him and pulled him inside. Then my daughter—her sobs choking off as she was lifted through the window.
"Give me the child!" the woman shouted.
I raised my daughter higher, my arms shaking from the weight—too heavy, too weak.
Below, a man roared, "GRAB HER!"
A figure lunged for the rope. It jerked violently, yanked downward.
"NO!"
I tightened my grip, nails digging into the fibers.
"Let go!" another voice barked from below—sharp, commanding, not the same man.
I didn't look down. I couldn't. I just climbed with everything I had left.
Suddenly, a hand clamped around my ankle—ice cold.
"Get down here."
His voice was right beneath me.
My heart stopped. I kicked hard. Once. Twice.
"Damn it—!"
He let go.
At that exact moment, two hands from above grabbed me and pulled me up. I collapsed onto the floor, my back slamming hard as the air was knocked from my lungs. The window slammed shut behind me, the lock clicking into place.
The room was dark, lit only by a faint glow from the hallway.
My son clung to me.
"Mom…"
He was shaking—his whole body trembling.
My daughter sobbed uncontrollably. I pulled them both into my arms, holding them tight as if letting go meant losing them forever.
"Quiet."
The woman's voice cut through, low and firm. She stood by the door, her ear pressed against it, listening.
Outside, footsteps stopped just below. Silence fell—heavy, suffocating.
Then a voice spoke, not loud but clear.
"You think hiding up there will save you?"
I tightened my hold on my children, my heart pounding against my ribs.
The woman turned to me, her eyes no longer soft—no trace of pretense left.
"We don't have much time," she said.
"Who are they?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
She paused for a second before answering, "People you were never supposed to know about."
I let out a hollow laugh.
"Too late."
She studied me, and for the first time, there was something like evaluation in her gaze.
"Yeah," she said. "Too late."
Outside, a metallic sound clicked.
Click.
Her expression changed instantly.
"They have a key."
My heart dropped.
"Move."
She turned and pulled open a narrow door behind her, revealing a hidden passage.
"Where?" I asked.
"Deeper," she replied without looking back. "It's not safe here anymore."
Behind us, the doorknob began to turn.
Click.
The door trembled.
My daughter cried louder. I picked her up, grabbed my son's hand, and stepped into the darkness.
At that exact moment, the door behind us burst open.
Light flooded in.
And a shadow stretched across the floor.