Elle thrashed in the other person’s grip, fighting and kicking with all her strength as her room kaleidoscoped around her. Her shoulder hit the floor with a heavy thud. In front of her, the door to her bedroom stood just out of reach. She clawed forward, reaching her hand out to the knob on the left side and scrambling out into the hallway.

Elle sprinted to the right, aiming for the kitchen, where she’d last seen her parents. “HELP!” she cried, casting a fearful glance over her shoulder.

This mistake almost cost her her life. She slammed into a tiny cabinet they kept at the end of their hall, bending half over and spilling the photos decorating the top. Her chest ached with the impact, a bruise already forming beneath her skin.

Did she remember wrong in her haste?

“MOM! DAD!” Elle called, shoving herself back to gain momentum.

“Elle?” Her dad questioned, standing directly behind her. “What’s wrong?”

Oddly, when she saw him, her fear didn’t diminish.

Elle skidded to a stop. “T-t-there was someone in my room! They tried to grab me!”

Her dad shot her a sympathetic look and took a step forward, reaching for her. Elle’s breath quickened, and she retreated.

“Elle?” Her dad questioned, the ‘beauty’ mark on his lip bobbing up and down as his mouth moved.

Putting the impossible pieces together, Elle looked past him, searching for the couch at the end of the hallway. Her heart stopped when she found it, and her eyes widened, betraying her shock. She let the fear stay on her face as she turned her attention back to her ’dad.’

“I’m-I’m worried he’s still in there,” she stuttered, her voice shaking. “Can you go check for me?’

He stood for a few seconds, and she thought her heart might burst with stress. Sweat dripped down her forehead, catching on her brow.

Finally, he spoke. “Of course, honey.”

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He shuffled to the side, opening the door in a manner that suggested he wasn’t worried. Elle took a sharp breath in, then took the chance.

Her feet pounded against the floor as she darted into her parent’s bedroom behind the last door of the hallway. She locked the flimsy wooden door behind her before springing across the room, slamming her way to a stop at their window.

“Elle?! Are you okay? Elle!” her father called.

Elle ripped the blinds away from the window, sliding beneath them to unlock the window with shaking fingers.

“Elle sweetie, can you let me in?” came her mother’s voice from the door.

Ignoring ‘them,’ Elle flung the window open and leaped over the windowsill, not pausing for even a second as a sharp branch stabbed through her sock-covered feet.

Wood cracked behind her, and she felt splinters and shards of various sizes sting into her back as pieces of the door went flying through the window with great force. Terrified, she dared not to look behind her.

A furious roar echoed around her, and Elle’s legs and feet burned as she ran faster, bits of rock, dirt, and sticks digging into her soles as she ran. She took a wrong turn at the fork before her, heading to the unfamiliar center of the city instead of the more familiar grounds of the local park. It was too late to change her mind now.

A familiar head bobbed up ahead, one of her teachers out for lunch with her family. Elle ran up to her, panting. Her teacher smiled, lifted her left hand, and waved hello. Upon closer look, her face, usually so friendly and open, was off, just slightly.

“ellE,” she said, and Elle’s heart soared. Someone who could help! “ko uoy era,” Elle felt her heart crack in her chest. Other faces, familiar and unfamiliar all at once, swirled around her as she scanned for a place to hide. They reached their left hands up to wave hello, not reacting in the slightest to the presence she could feel behind her.

The buildings grew quickly denser, and she slid into the first relatively well-hidden alleyway she spotted, breathless. Her eyes landed on a bright green dumpster, and she flung herself inside, shutting the lid overtop. The smell was nauseating, but the adrenaline kept her gag reflex from reacting.

Elle buried herself in between trash bags, covering her mouth and breathing lightly with her hands, listening as footsteps entered the alleyway, walking right to where she was hiding. The person–or being–sniffed. The lid of the dumpster lifted, bringing fresh air with it. Elle daredn’t breathe, terrified she’d be caught by whomever–or whatever–had snatched her through the looking glass into this topsy-turvy world, mimicking her father.

Seconds passed, and Elle feared she might pass out.

The lid dropped back down into the dumpster. Elle held her breath as the footsteps faded, waiting for seconds more, even as her lungs burned. Finally, she took a heaving gasp in, coughing as she inhaled the scene of the garbage. Her lungs and her chest and her face burned as she heaped in the filthy air.

Disgusted, she flung the trash off of herself, scraping her fingernails against her arms in an attempt to remove the sticky, smelly residue from her skin and clambering out of the trash as quickly and quietly as she could balance. She lifted the lid slightly, letting the fresh, clean air run straight into her lungs.

Her eyes could just make out the road, and she peered out, looking for the being that chased her. None of the people on the street behaved more oddly than the rest, and she climbed out of the dumpster, pieces of trash sticking and falling from her body as she went. Elle dusted herself off in the alleyway, removing as much of the trash as she could reach.

Sauces stained her shirt, pieces of pineapple clasped to her pants, honey bunched her hair, and red ketchup mixed with the blood on her feet. The ally shadows arched overhead as the sun started to set. Elle’s eyes stung, and she sniffled as she blinked terrified tears away.

Most people gave her a wide berth as she walked down the street, sticking to the shadows as she saw them.

She passed another alleyway, looking miserably around for any sign of her kidnapper.

“Psst,” someone in the alleyway whispered.

Elle turned, expecting to see another mirrored image. Instead, she blinked as the person raised their right hand in greeting, saying, “Can you understand me?”