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The Hunted

The protagonist of the story finds themselves on a desperate journey to escape a troubled past and the threats looming in Chicago, Illinois. As they speed down a mysterious road, filled with unfamiliar signs, they feel an overwhelming need to distance themselves from the torment they've endured for years.

Jan 27, 2024  |   4 min read

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Daya
The Hunted
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I look back to see if a large, blue, car was coming. Specifically, a Ford XR8. All I can hear is the whirling, cacophonous wind and the sound of my own heartbeat. I pull over and light a cigar, the flame flickering into the air and up into the azure sky. I take a long, deep breath, exhaling the smoke from my mouth as I try grasp for air. I take a quick glance at the long, narrow road ahead of me. I see signs I can't understand. I think to myself if it's even a real language. I don't think about where I'm heading, I'm driving straight until I am well hidden. Far away from the anomalies. Far away from the torture I've been through all these years and the animosity in Chicago, Illinois. I needed to get away desperately. I look behind me again, just to make sure no one is coming after me, but I feel a cryptic and enigmatic feeling and it's not the best. Luckily, I see the road is empty. I rev up my car, the engine growling in response to the command and drive forward. I abruptly hear gun shots faintly in the background. Immediately, my hands start shaking on the wheel as I feel disconcerted and disorientated. What on earth was that? How can they find me? Why are they still looking for me? Was that them? My heart skips a beat and I continue to drive fast up the road only to be stopped by a massive house in the middle of nowhere. I have reached extremity. They surrounded me with vehicles of all types. The cops are slowly approaching me one by one, so I put on my glasses that cost me a fortune and start putting some music on. I quickly hid my paraphernalia in the back of my car, under the passenger seat and open my window. I wonder what they are going to say to me. The officer comes up close to my window carrying something in his left hand. He points a gun to my head and says "Checkmate." I sink into my chair thinking; my time has come to an end.

The cops take me out of my car forcefully and I try to wrap my head around what had just happened. I'm tied with these heavy, sliver, rusty looking handcuffs on my wrists and I yell for help. My wrists and hands start to sweat abnormally, and my stomach is rumbling out loud. They take me inside to a massive building a few metres away from where I was, and I get an anxious feeling about where I'm headed. I see cells left and right from me and I start getting shivers. The officers beside me start talking to each other aggressively in Russian. Flashbacks suddenly flood through my head. I remember this smell. The smell of the tiny, disgusting, malodorous toilets provided for inmates rifted up my nose as I pass various cells. The gory, trickling sight of blood from the inmates stayed intact in my brain. Everything looks the same. I can't even cover my eyes. I remember this noise, the noise of angry monsters viciously trying to kill each other. Animals. I have to take my clothes off in front of anyone. I have to see other prisoners do the same. Majority of the men here are beaten up or look like they're ready to fight. Such a gruesome and grisly sight. All of a sudden, I see the most macabre thing. I don't have the words to explain what happened but I can smell putrid death. I keep walking with the officers to a small, murky room with a brown, wooden chair in the middle. They push me into the chair and attach an electrode to my head and left leg. This is it. This is the ultimate checkmate moment.

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