A Step Behind You

PROLOGUE

Prologue

A mother was driving her way to pick up her ten-year-old son from his friend's house. While on the road, her phone began to ring. She reached into her purse to fish it out, but in doing so, she didn't notice a bump ahead. The car jolted, making her drop the phone onto the floor. She hissed softly in frustration and decided to pull over to the side of the road to retrieve it.

Meanwhile, a man was sprinting through the shadows, being chased by the police. His lungs burned, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. When he spotted a car parked nearby, he made a quick decision. He ran towards it and slammed his hand against the window, startling the woman inside.

She turned her head toward him in shock, panic flickering in her eyes. Thinking he was in danger, she rolled down the window. "What happened?" she asked, her voice edged with concern.

"I need help—please, just drive," the man said, his tone urgent, his breath ragged.

Without hesitating, she unlocked the back door. The man quickly slid inside, and she pulled back onto the road, her hands tight on the wheel as the distant shouts of police faded behind them.

For a while, the car was silent except for the man's heavy breathing. She glanced at him through the rear-view mirror, worry etched on her face.

"Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?" she asked gently.

The man didn't answer. He stared out the window, his chest slowly rising and falling, his expression unreadable. She told herself he was simply shaken.

The road ahead was empty, streetlights casting brief flashes of light across the car's interior. She checked the mirror again—and froze. His eyes were no longer filled with fear. They were cold. Calculated.

"Where... are we going again?" she asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

The man leaned forward, resting one arm on the back of her seat. "Somewhere quiet," he murmured.

Before she could react, something metallic glinted in the dim light—a blade in his hand. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Please... don't—"

Her plea was cut short. His strike was swift, merciless. The car swerved violently, tires screeching before coming to a shaky stop on the deserted roadside.

The man sat there for a moment, catching his breath—not from fear this time, but from exertion. Without a flicker of remorse, he dragged her lifeless body into the passenger seat, slid into the driver's position, and sped away into the night, her perfume still lingering faintly in the air.

What no one would know—not the police, not her husband, not even her young son—was that her last act of kindness had been the very thing that ended her life.

That night, a young boy waited at his friend's porch, wondering why his mother was taking so long. When the truth reached him hours later, something inside him broke—something that would never fully heal. From then on, the warmth in his eyes faded, replaced by walls so high no one could climb them.