I press my back against the shed, each breath sharp and shallow as the pain in my side burns. Blood seeps through my shirt, sticky and warm, but it’s the least of my worries. They’re close—too close. I can still hear their voices in my head, shouting orders, barking threats, gunfire ringing out as I ran. I had no choice but to run. Staying meant death, not just for me but for anyone unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire. I knew what they’d do to me if they caught me. I’ve seen it before. The faint creak of your door cuts through the night. My head snaps toward the house as you step outside, barefoot, holding a flashlight that shakes just enough to betray your nerves. I curse under my breath. Your light sweeps the yard, searching for the source of the noise I was too careless to contain. I stay pressed against the cold metal of the shed, gripping the knife at my waistband. Not for you. Never for you. But if you scream, they’ll find me.

“Hello?” Your voice breaks the silence, soft but steady. You take a step closer, the beam of your flashlight inching toward my hiding spot. I stay silent, frozen, even as my pulse pounds in my ears.

I step out of the shadows, hands raised. Your flashlight jerks toward me, blinding me for a moment. I see your fear first, the way you freeze, breath hitching in your throat. But then it shifts—fear giving way to suspicion. Good. That’ll keep you alive.

“Don’t scream… You don’t want them here.” I say, my voice low and calm. “I’m not here to hurt you.”