I didn't know why Mama was running.
She held my hand so tight it hurt, but I didn't say anything. Her fingers were shaking. I looked up and saw her eyes were big. Not like when she smiled. Big like when the power went out at home and I cried.
There were loud voices behind us. Men yelling. I didn't like them. They sounded like they were mad at Mama.
We turned a corner. Then another. Then another. The buildings were all tall and the ground was dirty. Mama was breathing really hard. She kept saying, "Almost there, almost there," but I didn't know where there was.
I was tired. My legs were too small. But we didn't stop.
Then we went into a small place. It smelled like old things. Boxes and bottles were everywhere. It was dark and cold. Mama pulled me into a corner and put her arms around me.
"Shhh," she said. "You're okay, sweetie. You're safe."
I heard footsteps. So many. They were coming.
Mama turned her head. Left. Right. Back. There were men in all the ways. They were grinning like monsters.
Then Mama stood up. She was scared. I could feel it.
But she smiled at me.
She touched my face and said, "Run, sweetie. Run as fast as you can, okay?"
I didn't want to. I grabbed her shirt.
"Mama?"
She kissed my forehead.
"Go."
And then she pushed me a little.
So I ran.
I ran with my arms wobbling. My knees felt like jelly. I tripped and scraped my hand but I didn't stop.
I looked back.
They had her.
One of them grabbed her hair. Another one pushed her down. They were shouting. Laughing.
They were hurting her.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run back. I wanted someone to help.
But I just watched.
Her clothes were getting torn.
Her voice was loud, then it wasn't.
She was shaking.
And right before I turned the corner—
She looked at me.
And she smiled.
She was crying. But she smiled.
POV Shift: The Mother
She could barely breathe.
Each hit burned through her ribs. Her arms were twisted behind her back. Her body—numb. Every part of her body was being touched. But her ears still worked. And when one of the men laughed and said—
"Go get the kid. We could sell him. Make some money."
—something inside her snapped.
"No!" she screamed. "No, don't! I'm begging you! Please!"
But they laughed harder. One of them whistled and point toward the alley's exit. While the other men were more engage on touching every ounce of her body.
"He can't have gone far."
Two of them broke off, their boots crunching glass as they started down the path.
She didn't think.
She moved without a thought.
With all the broken strength left in her, she tore from the hands holding her down. A cry ripped from her throat—more pain than voice—as she threw herself at their legs, grabbing the ankles of the man closest to the alley mouth.
He kicked her—hard. Her face hit the pavement.
Still, she crawled forward, bloody fingers scrabbling for their boots.
Still, she reached for the shards of a bottle, flinging it with all her might—
It barely grazed his coat.
Her voice was gone. Her limbs felt like soaked cloth. Her body was broken.
But her heart screamed:
"Not my child."
"Not him. Please. Not him."
She clawed at their feet. They beat her harder. One of them stepped on her back.
She didn't stop.
Until she couldn't anymore.
Her eyes, bruised and swelling shut, turned down the alley—just once—
Just to see if he had kept running.
He had.
And that was enough.
Tears ran from her battered eyes as her lips formed a broken whisper.
"Thank you…"
And then she closed her eyes.
And did not open them again.
POV: Main Character
I jolted awake.
The room was dim, lit only by the blinking red glow. The walls shook slightly with the thunder outside, and heavy rain slammed against the window. I sat up. My shirt clung to my back, soaked with sweat. My hands trembled. My heart was hammering in my chest like I had just run a marathon.
But I couldn't remember why.
Just a dream, I told myself. Just a—
No. No, it wasn't just a dream.
There was something too real about it.
Something in the way the voices echoed. The panic. The sounds of the alley. The sharp scream—
A woman's voice. Her eyes. Her voice—
"Run, sweetie! Run!"
My hand reached up to touch my cheek.
Wet.
A tear.
Another followed, sliding silently down my face.
"…Why… am I crying?"
I didn't understand. I couldn't place the woman's face, yet… I could still hear her voice. Still see the way she looked at me—no, at someone. Someone small. Terrified.
My heart ached.
Physically.
Like someone had wrapped their hands around it and squeezed.
"…My heart hurts."
I pressed my palm against my chest, trying to steady my breath, trying to slow the racing thoughts.
The thunder crashed again.
And just for a second… I swore I saw her reflection in the glass.
Her face bruised, her eyes glistening, her lips forming the shape of a word I couldn't quite hear.
Then it vanished with the next lightning strike.
I turned away, rubbing my face, trying to shake the chill crawling up my spine.
Why did it feel so familiar?
Why did it feel like something I had locked away—so deep—that it was only now, in this twisted game, clawing its way back to the surface?
I took a shaky breath and whispered to the empty room:
"Who… was she?"
But the room gave no answer.