I needed to get out of here. There was nowhere left for me in this forsaken place. Catching the train was my only option.

The night was dark, suffocating in its silence. I never looked back at the house that had been my prison, or at the lifeless bodies of my parents. They would never haunt me or hurt my sister again. She would have a chance at a good life, away from this madness.

I moved like a shadow through the streets, avoiding the flickering streetlights. I had changed into a fresh pair of clothes, the bloodstains now just a haunting memory. The city was asleep, oblivious to the monster it had harbored within its walls.

Morning arrived too soon, and the city began to stir. I made my way to the train station, blending into the throng of early commuters. Their faces were a blur, their conversations a distant hum. I had to disappear among them, become just another faceless entity.

I spotted a family with a child about my age. Keeping a safe distance, I mimicked their movements, hoping to blend in without drawing attention. The mother glanced my way, her eyes lingering on my hollow gaze. She shuddered and quickly looked away, pulling her child closer.

The train pulled into the station, its metallic screech echoing through the platform. I followed the crowd, keeping my head down. The conductor’s bored eyes barely skimmed over me as I handed him a ticket I had stolen. I found a seat near the back, away from prying eyes.

The train lurched forward, and I stared out the window, watching the city recede. The memories of the night played in my mind, a dark symphony of violence and release. My hands, clean now but trembling slightly, gripped the seat tightly. But I felt nothing – no guilt, no remorse, only a cold, empty void.

As the train sped towards an uncertain future, I knew I had to keep moving, keep hiding. The world outside was vast and indifferent, a perfect place for someone like me to disappear. I would have to secure shelter when I arrived.

The train rumbled along the tracks, and people around me kept their distance. Some avoided eye contact, sensing the darkness within me. The trip was quick, and before I knew it, I was in a new place, a new city.

The train screeched to a stop. The announcement echoed, “Next stop: Haven City Central. Please watch your step.”

Stepping off the train into the bustling station, the clatter of people unloading and the distant hum of traffic enveloped me. I had to adapt. This new place was different, and if I let my guard down, I might be trapped again.

I walked down the sidewalk, my expression a mix of gloom and eerie detachment. People passing by felt an unsettling chill, quickening their pace or crossing to the other side of the street to avoid me. Their reactions fed the cold emptiness inside me.

For now, I was homeless. I found a small canopy in an alley and settled there for the night, my thoughts a labyrinth of survival and detachment. The city’s sounds became a distant lullaby as I drifted into a restless sleep.

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Morning came, and with it, a plan. I needed to be taken in by someone, to find shelter and safety. I tore my clothes, dirtied myself, and positioned myself by the side of a building, sobbing softly but noticeably. My act had to be convincing.

An old lady noticed me, her kind eyes filling with concern. She approached cautiously. “Where are your parents?” she asked softly.

I covered my face with my hands, hiding the twisted smile that spread across my lips. Silence hung between us before she spoke again. “How about you come with me? I have fresh clothes and some food. You look so skinny. I’ll see if I can get you help.”

Behind my hands, my smile grew. “Okay,” I sobbed, my voice trembling.

Her hand on my shoulder was warm, a stark contrast to the cold calculation in my heart. She led me to her home, her gentle words a stark contrast to my silent malevolence. Her kindness was a tool, a means to an end. I had succeeded in my plan, and as I stepped into her home, I knew I was one step closer to the safety I sought.

The old lady’s house was modest but welcoming. She handed me fresh clothes and directed me to a bathroom where I could wash up. I took my time, savoring the hot water and the clean scent of the soap. It was a stark contrast to the filth and blood I had left behind.

Once clean, I joined her in the kitchen. She had prepared a simple meal, and as I ate, I observed her closely. Her kindness was genuine, and for a moment, I almost felt a pang of guilt. But that emotion was fleeting, swallowed by the darkness within.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice small and fragile.

She smiled warmly. “You’re welcome, dear. We’ll get you the help you need. Just take it one day at a time.”

I nodded, my eyes downcast. Inside, my mind was already planning my next move. This city was new, full of possibilities and dangers.

Finishing the meal, I watched as her warm, kind smile began to falter. She reached for the phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed. Panic surged through me, and I stood abruptly, grabbing a nearby knife. The room seemed to shrink, my vision tunneling on her.

“Put the phone down,” I hissed, the knife glinting under the kitchen light. She froze, her eyes wide with fear. “This stays between us. If you call anyone, I’ll make sure you regret it. I’ll find everyone you care about. Understand?”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she nodded, slowly lowering the phone. “Please, I just want to help—”

“Help by keeping your mouth shut,” I snapped. “I don’t care where you put me. A closet, a doghouse, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t call anyone.”

The atmosphere in the room was thick with terror. Her once warm eyes now mirrored the horror of the situation. “I promise,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I won’t call anyone.”

I stepped back, the knife still in my hand, my heart pounding with adrenaline and madness. “Good,” I muttered, my gaze never leaving hers. “You don’t have to think about me. Just let me stay, and we’ll have no problems.”

Her fear was palpable, a sharp contrast to the smile hidden behind my facade of sorrow. The old lady’s house, which had once felt like a sanctuary, now felt like a prison to her. And I was its warden, ensuring she remained silent.

“Now, show me where I’ll be staying,” I demanded, my voice cold and devoid of empathy. She led me to a small room at the back of the house, her movements mechanical and submissive. I followed her, the knife still clutched in my hand, a constant reminder of the unspoken threat hanging over her.

The room was tiny, barely more than a storage closet, but it would suffice. “This will do,” I said, my tone dismissive. “Remember, this is our secret. If you break your promise, you’ll regret it.”

She nodded, her face pale and drawn. “I won’t tell anyone,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Satisfied, I closed the door behind her, the click of the lock sounding final. The room was dark, but it felt like a sanctuary to me.

I would survive by any means necessary. No matter what I have to do!