The Past Will Always Find You

    It happened a long time ago. 

    Lucy ran away from home when she was very young. So young that her parents' faces had faded from her memory. She didn’t know how to go back. And even if she did, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
She had been wandering for so long that the forest had become her home. The river was her guide, its steady flow keeping her from feeling completely lost. One day, she found an old, abandoned shelter. There were no signs of life inside—just dust, broken furniture, and the quiet hum of forgotten time. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She cleaned, repaired, and made it hers.
Months passed. She grew stronger, more confident.
Then she met Patrick.
A Stranger by the River
He was crouched by the water, drinking with cupped hands. His dark hair was tangled, his clothes torn. He looked older than her, but not by much.
The moment their eyes met, Lucy’s instincts screamed: "Run!"
And she did. But Patrick followed—not with force, not with threats, just quiet persistence. He found her shelter and raised his hands in surrender.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. “I swear. I’m just like you. Lost.”
Lucy didn’t believe him at first. But as days passed, trust—fragile and hesitant—formed between them. Patrick hunted and brought back food. Lucy kept the shelter warm and livable. They survived together, and slowly, they began to care for each other.
One evening, as the sun painted the sky gold and pink, they took a walk. They wandered into a vast grass field, its emerald blades swaying in the wind.
Lucy smiled. “The grass seems greener on this side.”
A voice behind them chuckled.
“I agree.”
The Man with the Axe has shown up behind them
They froze.
Turning slowly, they saw a man standing at the edge of the field. He was tall and broad, his face shadowed by the fading light. In his hand, he held an axe, dragging it lightly across the ground.
Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. Patrick stepped in front of her, his body tense. “Who are you?”
The man took a step closer. The axe scraped against the earth, the sound sharp in the silence.
“You don’t remember me, do you, Lucy?” he asked, his grin widening.
Her stomach dropped. The voice—it was familiar.
Memories clawed at the edges of her mind. A house. A shouting voice. Running, always running—
Patrick grabbed her hand. “Lucy?” he whispered, concern in his voice.
The man’s grin stretched wider, teeth flashing in the dim light.
"Welcome home, little runaway." Then he raised the axe.
Run.
Lucy didn’t think. She yanked Patrick’s arm and sprinted.
The forest blurred around them, trees flashing past in streaks of shadow. Behind them, heavy footsteps crashed through the undergrowth.
The man was chasing them.
Branches tore at Lucy’s arms, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The past was hunting her. Finding her.
Patrick stumbled but caught himself. He was fast, but Lucy was faster—because she had done this before. She had spent years convincing herself she had escaped. That time had buried whatever she left behind. But time doesn’t erase. It only waits. And now, her past was waiting no longer.
The River’s Edge. 

The sound of rushing water grew louder. The river was close. If they could reach it, maybe. Patrick tripped. Lucy turned back just in time to see the man closing in, the axe glinting in his grip.
No time to think. "Jump!" she yelled. Patrick hesitated for a split second. Lucy grabbed his wrist and pulled.
The river swallowed them whole.
Cold water crushed the air from Lucy’s lungs. The current twisted and pulled, dragging them under. For a moment, the world was nothing but darkness and roaring water—
Then, finally, air. Lucy gasped as she surfaced, coughing, gripping Patrick as the river carried them away. The last thing she saw before the current pulled them around the bend. Was the man standing at the riverbank?
Watching, waiting, because he knew something Lucy had spent years trying to forget.
    You can run, you can hide, but the past will always find you, and next time… you might not escape.