The morning sun poured through the window, casting golden streaks across the bedroom walls. Adam groaned, stretching under his blanket before reaching for his phone.9:00 AM. His heart skipped a beat. Why hadn't anyone woken him up?
School started at 7:30 AM, and his mother, Lena, never let him sleep in this late. Usually, she'd be yelling, threatening to pour water on him, while his little sisters, Sophie and Maya, giggled from the doorway. But today, there was nothing.
No voices. No footsteps. Just… silence.
A strange unease settled in his chest. Tossing the blanket aside, he shuffled to the bathroom, splashing water on his face. Maybe everyone had gone out? But without waking him? That had never happened before.
Still drowsy, he walked back to his room then his foot slipped.
He crashed onto the cold floor with a dull thud, pain shooting up his elbow. "Ow! What the?"
Then he saw it. Dark red. Thick. Sticky. Blood.
His breath caught. His fingers trembled as he touched the warm liquid. His mind screamed at him to move, to run, but his body felt frozen. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he slowly lifted his head and looked toward the living room.
And then his world shattered.
His father, Dr. Daniel, lay sprawled on the floor, his white coat soaked in crimson. His mother, Lena, was slumped against the kitchen counter, her lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. Across the room, his little sisters and the innocent, playful Sophie and Maya were huddled together, their tiny hands still clutching each other.
Dead. All of them.
A raw scream tore from his throat. His vision blurred with tears as he crawled forward, his trembling hands reaching for his mother's motionless body. "Mom…?" His voice cracked. "Mom, wake up!"
But she was cold.
He sobbed, curling into himself as grief swallowed him whole. How? Why? Who could do this?
Then a new, terrifying thought pierced his mind:
Why am I still alive?
If someone had come to kill his family, why had they left him untouched? His head pounded with questions, but before he could process anything, the front door burst open.
"Freeze! Hands where we can see them!"
Blinding lights flooded the room as armed officers stormed inside, their rifles aimed directly at him.
Adam barely had time to lift his head before—BANG!
A sharp crack. A searing pain in his chest.
He gasped, eyes wide as blood blossomed across his shirt. His body convulsed as he collapsed to the ground, darkness swallowing him whole.
And then—nothing.
Eight Years Later
A breath. Then another.
Adam's eyelids opened, his vision swimming in and out of focus. His body felt weak, stiff, like he hadn't moved in years. He tried to sit up, but pain shot through his limbs, forcing him to collapse back onto through mat beneath him.
Where was he?
Blinking, he took in his surroundings—a dimly lit hut, its walls made of mud and straw. The air smelled of earth and smoke. A single flickering lamp cast shadows across the room.
His heart pounded. This isn't my home.
Then the door creaked open.
An old woman, her frame tiny and frail, shuffled inside. Her silver hair was tied back, her face deeply wrinkled with age. She carried a bowl of water, setting it beside him without a word.
Adam's voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Where… where am I?"
The old woman gazed at him for a long moment before answering."You've been asleep a long time, boy."
Something about her tone sent chills down his spine.
'What do you mean?"
"You were in coma my boy"
"How long?" he croaked.
Her expression softened. "Eight years."
The words slammed into him like a punch to the gut. Eight years? It was impossible. He had just he had just woken up in his house, his family.....
His family.
It all rushed back in a brutal wave. His father's lifeless body. His mother's empty stare. The blood. The police. The gunshot.
His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palm. He had lost everything.
The old woman watched him, her sharp eyes studying his reaction. Finally, she spoke again.
"They tried to kill you, but fate had other plans. And now you have a choice to make."
The door creaked open again, and a tall, broad-shouldered man entered. He had a long scar down his cheek, his gaze steady and unreadable.
"My name is Victor," the man said. "And we need to talk about why you're still alive."
Victor had barely stepped outside when the old woman sprang into motion. Her frail hands trembled as she darted to the door and peeked out, eyes scanning the shadows. Without a word, she reached into the folds of her saree and pulled out an old, battered Samsung phone.
"Take it," she whispered sharply, thrusting it into Adam's hand. "Don't trust anyone. Run, run as far as you can. That man will burn a city to find you. He can trace your scent, your shadow… anything."
Adam's heart pounded in his chest. His fingers clutched the phone like a lifeline. Before he could speak, the woman dropped to the floor, throwing a woven mat aside and revealing a wooden trapdoor hidden beneath.
"Down there," she said "Tunnel goes under the mountain. My grandson. Call him. Just go."
The trapdoor creaked open, revealing a narrow shaft carved into the earth, damp and dark. Adam hesitated, panic clawing at his insides but her stare, fierce and urgent, left no room for doubt.
He nodded once.
Then slid in.
The walls closed in around him, cool and damp against his skin. His elbows scraped along the earth, knees digging into stone and root. The air was musty, suffocating, but he pressed on, adrenaline pushing him forward.
Then he heard it.
A scream.
"Don't kill me! Please—I need to care for my grandson. He needs me!"
Adam froze. His chest tightened.
Bang.
A gunshot. Loud. Echoing through the tunnel like a thunderclap.
His stomach twisted into knots.
She was gone.
He bit down on a cry, his face twisting in grief, but there was no time to mourn. The fear, white-hot and suffocating, drove him onward. Every inch forward felt like a mile, his muscles aching, lungs burning but he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Finally, after what felt like forever, he reached the tunnel's end. Rusted iron scraped beneath his hands as he pushed open a heavy gate. The hinges groaned—and then he was outside.
The jungle unfolded around him in a riot of green and shadow. Vines draped from towering trees, thick trunks reaching into the sky like silent giants. The air buzzed with life, the ground soft with moss and fallen leaves.
Alone.
Lost.
Adam collapsed onto the forest floor, gasping, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain. He stared at the canopy above, tears brimming in his eyes.
The old woman had died for him.
Now, he had to survive for her. For his family.
For himself.
End of Chapter 1