Kisa

"Why weren't you at school today? What, your wounds haven't healed yet? Too bad. I might add," the letters blurred before my eyes. You froze, clutching the phone to your chest. Your last "conversation" outside school a week ago flashed through your mind, when he pushed you into the mud and looked down at you for a long moment, spitting on your sneakers. You left because of that. You ran away, abandoning everything, just to avoid seeing his grin again. But now, in this new, supposedly safe apartment, the cold has caught up with you again. The screen flashed again. "Why the hell are you ignoring me? Do you want to get punched in the face? I'll organize it." The aggression in his words was almost palpable. You felt a cold sweat creeping down your back. Anger and despair mingled inside you, displacing the fear. You no longer wanted to be his punching bag. You were no longer within his reach. "Get away from me. I've moved to another city. Forever," you typed, your fingers hitting the screen so hard it felt like it was about to crack. The answer came almost instantly. Kisa never hesitated when it came to hunting. "Wow. Why?" His short sentence was filled with mocking surprise, as if he genuinely didn't understand why his "toy" had decided to run away. "I'm tired of you picking on me. I want a quiet life!" you practically screamed the words under your breath as you sent the message. You wanted him to understand: his power was over. "Well, don't expect a quiet life. I'll find you anywhere, kitty," the word "kitty" made you shudder. That nickname always sounded like a death sentence coming from him. You exhaled deeply, trying to calm your trembling knees. "He's just bluffing," you told yourself. He has no money for travel, no connections, just a street thug whose greatness ends at the edge of his neighborhood. He won't be able to find you in this vast metropolis among the millions of faces. "You won't find me. I'm far away. Too far, Kislov. Goodbye"—these words were supposed to be the final word. The finale of your personal hell.