Listen to runrunrun by Dutch Melrose

I bolted for my room, survival mode activated. My pulse hammered in my ears, every footstep on the stairs growing louder, each one a deafening reminder of the men coming for me. I dared a quick glance over my shoulder—nothing yet—but my chest tightened, my body trembling with the kind of fear that leaves you feeling like you've just been pulled into a nightmare.

Where to hide? My brain scrambled, running through a list of places I could hide, but it was pointless. There was nowhere safe.

Dismembering. The word echoed in my mind, and all I could think about was how real it sounded coming from him, how easily he could make it happen.

Without thinking, I rushed to the window and yanked it open, the sound of it scraping against the frame loud enough to make my heart skip a beat. I glanced back. My blood froze. They were almost upstairs. I didn't have time.

I didn't even think about the consequences as I climbed out of the window, my bare feet hitting the rough stone of the window. I was in nothing but a pair of shorts and a thin cami top, and the cold air bit at my exposed skin, making me feel even more vulnerable.

My mind screamed at me to stop, to think this through, but I didn't have time. The ground seemed miles away as I clung to the edges of the window, my hands scrabbling to grip anything. My heart pounded in my throat as I slowly lowered myself, barely able to see through the panic and adrenaline blurring my thoughts.

Then—I jumped.

My feet hit the ground hard, the shock of the impact sending a jolt through my body. The dirt was filthy, but it didn't matter. I barely registered the sting before I heard a noise—a faint shuffle—then the unmistakable figure of one of the men appearing in the window above me.

Shit.

I scrambled to my feet, my legs like jelly, but my instincts screamed move, and that's exactly what I did. I didn't know where I was running—hell, I didn't even know if there was anywhere to run—but I had to get away.

My heart pounded, the sound of footsteps and voices creeping closer behind me. My legs screamed in protest as I ran, but fear fueled me, pushing me forward through the labyrinthine garden that seemed to stretch on forever. The tall hedges and twisting pathways were my only hope, but with every turn, I could hear them, getting closer, the air thick with their heavy breath.

The garden, once beautiful and serene, was now a terrifying maze, the thick overgrowth scraping at my skin, leaving me caked in dirt and sweat. I could hear them talking in low, threatening tones. I didn't need to understand their language to know what they were looking for.

I spotted the greenhouse up ahead, a dilapidated structure barely standing in the darkness, and sprinted towards it, the weight of my body pulling me down. The glass panes rattled in the wind as I slipped inside, gasping for air, my hands trembling.

It was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside, but I knew it wouldn't last. I ducked behind a table of plants, my heart racing, trying to steady my breath, but it felt impossible. I was covered in dirt, shivering, barely able to keep my hands still. My skin was clammy and cold, the terror of the night sinking deep into my bones.

I heard them—three men—enter the greenhouse, their footsteps echoing off the glass and metal shelves. My blood ran cold.

They were close. So close.

My mind raced, adrenaline kicking in. There had to be something I could use. I looked around frantically, my eyes landing on a small garden tool left carelessly on a nearby shelf. The metal handle gleamed under the faint moonlight. My fingers wrapped around it, the cool metal grounding me, giving me a semblance of control.

I gripped it tightly, my breathing shallow, heart hammering in my chest. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.

I could hear one of them moving closer, his footsteps slow but purposeful. My body trembled, my teeth chattering with fear, but I couldn't afford to panic. I waited, holding my breath, praying he wouldn't find me.

But then, he was there—so close I could hear the faint rustle of his boots on the dirt. My hands shook as I tightened my grip on the garden tool. My pulse thundered in my ears as I crouched, ready to defend myself.

But before I could even raise the tool, instinct kicked in. I grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground beside me and threw it, aiming straight for his eyes.

He yelled, stumbling backward, his hands instinctively flying to his face. It was the break I needed.

I bolted.

I didn't stop to look behind me, didn't even think twice. I ran like my life depended on it—because it did. My feet hit the dirt paths again, sending clumps of earth flying in every direction as I sprinted faster, harder, with every ounce of fear and desperation I had left in me.

I didn't know where I was running, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't let them catch me. I wouldn't let them.

The garden seemed endless, a sprawling maze of hedges and twisting paths that all blurred together in my panic. I ran, heart hammering in my chest, the voices of the men behind me shouting, demanding I stop. Their words were sharp and filled with venom, but I didn't dare slow down. I had to get to the gate. I had to escape.

But with every turn, the path seemed to stretch further, the gate still nowhere in sight. My breath came in ragged gasps, and the ground beneath my feet felt unstable as I sprinted, tripping over roots, my legs screaming from the strain.

I pushed myself harder, ignoring the growing ache in my muscles. My mind raced as my eyes frantically searched the darkened landscape for the glimmer of a gate, a sign that I was nearing the end of this hellish garden.

And then, I saw it. The faint outline of a wrought-iron gate at the far end of the garden. My heart surged with hope, but it was quickly squashed by the realization that I was still too far away, and they were closing in on me.

I pushed on, the voices behind me now a chorus of anger and frustration. I had to make it—just a little further.

Bam!

I slammed straight into something solid—no, someone—and it felt like I'd collided with a brick wall.

A tall figure loomed over me, blocking my path to escape. His presence was so overwhelming, it was as if the air had thickened around him. The moonlight cast shadows across his sharp jaw, his black hair messy but effortlessly styled. But it was his eyes—deep brown, gleaming with something dangerously calm—that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

A smirk played at the edges of his lips, a cruel curve that sent a cold shiver through me. He didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at me with those unnerving eyes, as if I were nothing more than an insect caught in his web.

And then, he gestured behind me.

 I opened my mouth to scream, to beg, to do something—but before I could even fully comprehend what was happening, I felt the sharp, cold pressure of metal at the back of my head.

The world blurred, my thoughts scattering like dust in the wind. The last thing I saw before everything went black was the cruel smirk still plastered on his face, his eyes watching me with detached amusement.

And then, the darkness swallowed me whole.