Getaway

The door burst open, slamming against the wall. A young woman, barely in her mid-thirties, stumbled inside, locking it hastily behind her. Her blond hair, disheveled and matted, clung to her blood-soaked face. A crimson streak traced her jawline, dripping onto the wooden floor.

"ALEXIS! ASTA!" she called out, her voice strained with urgency.

From the staircase, a boy of fourteen appeared his expression a mixture of confusion and fear. "Mom? What's going on outside?" Alexis asked, his eyes fixated on the blood on her face.

"Shh!" She pressed a finger to her lips, motioning him closer. "Quickly."

"But you're bleeding! What happened?" he persisted, his voice trembling.

She knelt, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The village is under attack."

Alexis moved toward the window, but she pulled him back. "Don't you understand what I just told you?! We must leave. Now!"

"What about the others?" he whispered, his voice laced with concern.

"I don't know." Her voice faltered. "We will figure it out later. Right now, my only concern is you and Asta."

"But—"

"No, but! You know what to do." She gently pushed him toward the stairs. "Alexis, I need you to be strong. I'm counting on you."

Swallowing his fear, Alexis nodded and retreated upstairs. Moments later, he returned, carrying two backpacks. His younger brother, Asta, clung to his hand, his wide eyes filled with confusion.

The mother rushed to them, pulling them down to the floor. "Asta, listen to me," she said softly, her voice trembling. "Some bad people are coming. We can't stay here."

"But I like it here," Asta whimpered. "This is our home."

"We'll find a better one," she assured him, though her voice cracked under the weight of her own uncertainty.

"Will my friends come with us?" Asta asked, his gaze shifting to Alexis, who looked away.

The mother forced a smile. "We'll talk about that later."

Leading them to the cellar, she closed the heavy doors behind them. They sat in front of a small wooden hatch. The mother took Asta's tiny hands in hers. "Do you remember how I taught you to count to five?" she asked. "This time, we'll only count to three. When I say 'three,' I'll open this door, and we'll run as fast as we can toward the forest. Understand?"

Asta nodded hesitantly. "Can I take Mister Bear with me?"

"Alexis?" She asked.

"No!" Alexis snapped, his voice filled with frustration. "Why don't you just tell him the truth? He needs to know!"

"Because he's just a child," she replied, her voice breaking. "He does not deserve any of this."

Alexis clenched his fists, tears welling in his eyes. "But I do...? We've been running for years. Why won't they leave us alone? We've done nothing wrong!"

The mother pulled him into a hug. "Honey, I understand what you are feeling right now, and I know it is unfair to you, but he is only 5..."

A sudden crash echoed above them—the front door had been breached. Heavy footsteps thudded across the wooden floor.

"Let him in," a gruff voice commanded.

"Pipola, forgive me!" a familiar voice cried. "They promised to free my daughter if I cooperated."

"That's uncle Sandu!" Alexis whispered.

"Pipola, I know you're here!" Sandu pleaded. "Please, don't make this harder than it has to be."

Pipola's heart pounded. She tightened her grip on Asta. "Alexis, stay focused. Remember what I told you. No matter what happens, you do not stop running."

"But Uncle Sandu—"

"We can't help him," she whispered, her voice firm. "If you go out there, we..."

"But he is your brother!" imposed Alexis.

Asta tugged at her sleeve. "Mommy, I'm scared."

"I know, sweetheart," Pipola said, tying a black ribbon over his eyes. "This will keep you safe."

"What's in there?" demanded another male voice from upstairs.

"That's the cellar," Sandu replied, his tone strained.

A tense silence followed, broken only by the muffled sounds of chaos outside. Then Sandu's voice rose again, desperate and pleading.

"If you can hear me, please, help me out! I don't want anyone to get hurt. I'm sure we can find a way!" His voice cracked under the weight of his words. "I'm doing this for Alina's sake. You're a parent too—you must understand! Please, help my daughter."

Pipola's fists clenched, her breath shallow. "How dare you," she murmured, her voice low and bitter. "How dare you come here and ask me to understand your feelings..."

The heavy creak of a wooden step echoed through the room, sending a chill down her spine. One of the intruders was descending into the cellar, his boots thudding deliberately with each step.

Pipola turned to her youngest, her voice soft yet resolute. "Asta, are you ready to go?"

Asta nodded hesitantly, clutching Alexis's hand tightly.

Behind them, Alexis's voice wavered, his tears falling freely. "Why does it have to end this way..."

"Alexis! Look at me!" Pipola's voice cut through the rising panic, firm yet trembling with urgency. "We will get through this, like we always did before!" Her eyes locked onto his, willing him to focus. "Come on, help your little brother."

"Let's go..." Alexis said flatly, his voice hollow, as if the weight of their reality had drained all emotion. He took his brother's hand, gripping it tightly.

"Don't forget what I told you," Pipola urged, her voice low but commanding. "Whatever happens, do not look back!"

Her eyes flicked upward for a fleeting moment. "Almighty Father, please, protect us," she whispered, the prayer almost lost in the oppressive silence. Then, with a deep breath, she surged forward, pulling her children along, abandoning everything they'd ever known.

"Now!" she shouted, throwing open the hatch.

Their tanned fingers clenched into sweaty fists, arms pumping desperately, as if sheer force of will could propel them faster through the darkness. Each step felt like a battle, but they pressed on, driven by a fragile thread of hope.

The three of them bolted into the night, their feet pounding against the earth. Behind them, shouts erupted. "I SEE THEM! KILL THE WOMAN AND GET THE KIDS!"

Pipola pushed her sons forward. "Run! Don't stop!"

The forest loomed ahead, a shadowy refuge. The air was thick with the stench of blood and smoke. The cries of the dying echoed in the distance, mingling with the laughter of their tormentors.

"Father be with us, Father within us, Father behind us, Father before us, Father beside us, Father to protect us," Pipola's voice trembled as she ran, each word a desperate plea. "Father, protect us because we take refuge in You. I beg you, apart from my children..." The prayer spilled from her lips in rhythm with her pounding footsteps, a fragile shield against the chaos closing in around them.

"Mommy!" Asta sobbed, stumbling.

"I'm here," Pipola said, her voice breaking. "Just a little further."

Protecting her children by putting as much distance as possible between them and the intruders was all that mattered. Pipola didn't dare stop. Her eyes stayed locked on Alexis and Asta as they sprinted ahead, their small frames cutting through the dark woods like fleeting shadows.

Chaos engulfed everything. Death clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Familiar faces littered the ground, lifeless, their blood pooling beneath them. Some had been brutalized—limbs severed, bodies tortured, crucified, or burned alive. The stench of charred flesh mingled with the acrid scent of smoke.

A desperate cry pierced the cacophony. "Somebody... Anybody... Help... me..."

The voice froze Pipola mid-stride. Her breath hitched as dread coursed through her. Slowly, she turned toward the source. There, crumpled on the ground, was her childhood friend, Celia. Blood poured from the gaping wound in her stomach, the handle of a large metallic fork jutting grotesquely from her flesh.

"Please... help me..." Celia gasped, her words gurgling with blood.

Pipola staggered, her hand flying to her mouth. "Heavenly Father! What did they do to you..." she whispered, horror stealing her voice.

Celia's eyes fluttered open, glassy with pain. "Pipola..."

A wave of sorrow crushed Pipola's heart. She knew she couldn't linger; the intruders were close, and staying would mean certain death. Yet the thought of leaving Celia—her dearest friend since childhood—was unbearable. Tears streamed down her face, her soul fracturing with every passing second.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Pipola choked, her voice breaking as she stumbled backward.

Celia's hand reached out weakly. "Help... me..." Her voice was barely audible, a whisper swallowed by the surrounding chaos.

Pipola shook her head violently. "I can't... I just can't... I'm so sorry!"

With a sob, she turned and bolted, forcing herself to accelerate. Her hands clamped over her ears to block out Celia's fading cries. But it was no use. The echoes of her friend's pleas tangled with memories: shared laughter, whispered secrets, and more than 20 years of unbreakable companionship.

Each memory struck like a dagger, carving deeper into Pipola's soul. Small pieces of her life were crumbling, irreparably lost. She knew, with a certainty that crushed her spirit, that she would never get them back.

In mere minutes, three silhouettes were swiftly making their way through the dark, oppressive forest. Blackened corpses littered the ground, their lifeless bodies still steaming in the cool air. The stench of blood mixed with the damp scent of the earth, the atmosphere thick with the weight of death.

"Mommy, I'm scared," Asta whispered, his voice trembling.

"I promise you, it will be over soon. Just hold on a little bit longer," Pipola replied, her voice strained but steady, though her heart ached with every step.

She couldn't escape the crushing guilt that gnawed at her for leaving Celia behind, for abandoning her childhood friend in such a brutal way. Pipola fought the urge to break down in front of her sons, but deep down, she knew her frantic flight was futile—an attempt to outrun the inevitable despair that awaited them all. She stole one last glance at the burning village in the distance, its flames lighting up the sky, before they vanished into the dark woods.

"FIND THEM!" A distant voice echoed, sharp with anger.

The icy water and mud sloshed up over their boots, weighing them down with each step, making the effort of running feel like dragging anchors through the earth.

"Can I take them off? My feet hurts," Asta sobbed.

"Yes, you can, but not right now," Pipola answered, her voice ragged, gasping for air as her lungs burned with each labored breath. She forced the words out, each one more difficult than the last, her body trembling with exhaustion. The sound of footsteps closing in behind them, the unmistakable threat of the intruders, pushed her beyond her physical and mental limits. Every fiber of her being screamed for rest, but there was no time for weakness. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as the forest blurred around her, her vision narrowing with every frantic step, but she couldn't—no, wouldn't—let them catch up. Not while her children still had a chance.

"Alexis! Listen to me... If I fall... take your brother and run straight ahead. I'll buy you time to escape!"

"WHAT?! There is no way we're leaving you here!" Alexis shouted, his voice thick with desperation.

"Maybe we can rest for just a moment? My leg is really sore..." Asta groaned, stumbling.

"Listen to me," Pipola said firmly, her voice tight with exhaustion.

"NO! Not happening!" Alexis yelled, shaking his head.

"Mommy, I can't run anymore..." Asta whimpered, his small body trembling with fatigue.

"I'm sorry, we can't stop yet. We're almost there," Pipola said softly, her steps slowing as she spoke, though she tried to maintain her pace.

"We will get out of this together!" Alexis insisted, giving his mother a supportive shoulder.

"You know I'll only slow you down. Your safety comes first," Pipola said, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with the weight of a mother's sacrifice.

"Don't say that! You have no right to say that!" Alexis shouted, his eyes blazing with anger and fear.

"I am your mother! If I have to give my life to protect you... you must understand that I will!" Pipola cried out but was immediately interrupted.

"Say no more! Don't you dare say it!" Alexis screamed, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face.

Exhausted, she staggered, one step backward, before crumbling to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut, her bones no longer able to bear the weight of her body.

"Okay... Just give me a minute," Pipola said, her voice shaky but resolute, though every breath felt like it might be her last. She could barely stand, but there was no choice—there was no stopping now.

"You are bleeding so much...!" Alexis pleaded, his hands trembling as he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the blood from his mother's face. He was shaking, not just from the cold but from the weight of the horror around them, the terror of what they were running from.

"You're all grown up now... taking care of your mother... I'm so proud of you," Pipola whispered through gritted teeth, her heart swelling with love even in the midst of the chaos. She felt herself faltering, but her son's strength was like an anchor, keeping her tethered to the world she was desperately trying to protect.

"I know I am not the best son I could have been, but I don't want anything to happen to you... You were always there for me, but I..." Alexis mumbled, his voice thick with emotion, his tears mixing with the dirt on his face. He couldn't hold back anymore. His mother had given everything to protect him, and now, in this moment of crisis, he wished he could do the same for her.

"I don't want to lose you... You two are my whole world... I love you so much," Pipola cried, her voice cracking as the full weight of their reality sank in. Her vision was blurred by fear and exhaustion, but the words she spoke were the only thing keeping her going. She clung to them like a lifeline.

"Me too," Alexis whispered back, his voice breaking as he pulled his mother and little brother into a tight, desperate hug. The three of them huddled together, each trying to hold onto the fleeting warmth and safety of each other in a world that was falling apart around them.

"We are going to force our way through the border!" Pipola gasped, barely able to speak through her labored breaths.

"But you always said that we should never go there!" Alexis protested, his voice trembling with fear and confusion.

"I know... but that was before our life was in danger," Pipola replied, the urgency in her voice cutting through the haze of exhaustion.

"Honey... I understand your feelings, I really do, but I still need your word that if anything happens to me, you will take care of your little brother."

"I told you I can't!" Alexis yelled, the desperation in his voice rising as the weight of the situation began to crush him.

Pipola's eyes welled with tears, her frantic words nearly breaking her. "I will never forgive myself if something happens to either of you because of me! Please, understand my feelings too!" She was hysterical now, the fear clawing at her throat.

"I..."

"Nobody is going to follow us if we get through the border. That's our only chance. There are no other options left. If the worst happens, I need you to live!" Pipola's voice cracked with the strain of the moment, but there was no time to falter. "Do you understand?"

"Fine..." Alexis said, his voice hollow, drained of the fight he once had.

"Kid, get up... We must go." Alexis reached for his little brother's arm, but Asta yanked it away, stubborn and unwilling to move.

"I'm staying here! I'm tired!" Asta's voice was muffled with fatigue and anger, but it made the situation worse.

"Cut the shit out! Don't you understand the situation?!" Alexis shouted, his frustration boiling over.

Pipola's voice broke as she moved toward Asta. "What's wrong, my heart?"

"You're always treating me like a baby. I have eyes too!" Asta squeaked painfully, his chest heaving as tears mixed with the dirt on his face.

"ASTA, if you don't stand up, I swear I will..." Alexis's words were cut off by his own fear, his voice shaking as he reached for his brother again.

"It's okay. Mommy knows it's painful. I am sorry, we didn't mean to ignore you. We're all so tired, but we need to leave, please!" Pipola begged, her desperation palpable as she pulled her sons toward her.

"Mom, they're getting closer! We must go!" Alexis shouted, his eyes wild as he turned to her.

Through the trees, figures cloaked in dark hoods were closing in, the crackle of their electrical batons lighting the forest with flashes of cold blue light. The men were relentless, their movements swift and menacing.

In that moment, the world seemed to stand still, just for a heartbeat, as they held onto one another. Time stretched thin, the warmth of their embrace the only thing standing between them and the chaos. But the sounds of pursuit were getting closer, sharper, and there was no time left to linger in the fleeting comfort of each other's arms.

"We have to go now!" Alexis shouted, his voice tinged with panic but firm, shaking his mother from the momentary lull. The hug lasted only a second, the weight of their final embrace pressing down like a promise too heavy to bear. Then, with a sudden rush of resolve, Alexis pulled away. His face hardened, his eyes flashing with determination, a boy forced into adulthood by the horrors around him.

Without missing a beat, he grabbed Asta, lifting him onto his back in one fluid motion. The world around him blurred as he dashed toward the border, his heart pounding, the sound of their pursuers growing louder, closer. There was no looking back now. Each step was a race against fate, each breath a prayer to outrun the nightmare chasing them.

"That bitch is going for the borderline! Stop her!" One of the men screamed, his voice full of rage.

As the masked figures closed in, the tension in the air was suffocating. Pipola could hear their labored breathing, each step they took toward her and her children like the drumbeats of doom.

"No matter what happens, keep running!" Pipola screamed to Alexis, her voice strained with the weight of everything she was trying to protect.

The trees, once offering shelter, were now nothing more than skeletal shadows, their dead limbs reaching out like grasping hands as Pipola stumbled forward, each step an effort to keep going, to give her children one more chance at survival.

The wind howled through the forest like the voices of the dead, and the only thing Pipola could hold onto was the fleeting hope that the border, that distant line, could be their salvation. She pushed herself harder, her body nearly breaking, her mind unraveling, but she had no choice. They had to survive.