Shadows of the Past

The memories of that night still haunted Aarne, even as years passed and the events grew dim with time. He often wondered if the shadows that crept into his dreams were merely nightmares or remnants of something far worse—something he had lived through. The truth, as it often does, lay somewhere in between, a blend of fear, grief, and the cold hand of fate.Aarne's mother, Helmi, had been the heart of their small family. She was a gentle woman, her hands always busy with knitting or cooking, her soft voice filling their home with warmth. Aarne's father, Matti, had once been a good man—strong and loving, a protector of his family. But when the illness struck Helmi, it came like a thief in the night, taking not only her life but the light in Matti's eyes as well.It started with a cough, nothing more than a dry tickle at first. But within weeks, Helmi's condition worsened. Her once rosy cheeks grew pale, her breath came in labored gasps, and her vibrant spirit withered before Aarne's eyes. The village doctor was called, but in that remote corner of Finland, there was little he could do. Helmi's sickness was a mystery, something that defied explanation or cure.Aarne remembered the nights he would sit by her bedside, clutching her hand as she whispered to him, telling him stories of the warm summers they would never see again. She always smiled, even when the pain was too much to bear, even when the light in her eyes began to fade.And then, one night, she was gone. The house, once filled with her presence, became a tomb. Aarne sat by her side, holding her cold hand long after she had taken her last breath. Matti stood in the doorway, silent and unmoving, as if he had already become a ghost himself.The days that followed were a blur. There was a funeral, a small gathering of villagers who murmured their condolences and shuffled away quickly, eager to escape the shadow of death. Matti retreated into himself, his grief manifesting in a way that Aarne could not understand. The man who had once been a tower of strength became a broken shell, his only solace found in the bottom of a bottle.Aarne tried to keep things together, as much as a child could. He took on the chores his mother used to do, tried to cook meals that were barely edible, and kept the fire burning in the hearth. But nothing he did could fill the void that Helmi had left behind.The anger in Matti grew with each passing day, fed by the alcohol that dulled his senses but sharpened his tongue. He began to lash out at Aarne, blaming him for things that made no sense—blaming him for Helmi's death, for the cold that seeped into their bones, for the misery that had settled over their lives.One night, the anger turned to violence. Matti, drunk and raging, accused Aarne of being the reason Helmi had died. He struck the boy, a blow that sent him sprawling to the floor. It was the first time Matti had ever laid a hand on him, and it would not be the last.But that night, something inside Aarne snapped. He couldn't stay in that house any longer, couldn't bear the weight of his father's hatred. He waited until Matti had passed out, the empty bottle clutched in his hand, and then he ran.Aarne grabbed what little he could—a threadbare coat, a loaf of bread—and slipped out into the freezing night. The cold air hit him like a slap, but it was nothing compared to the icy terror in his heart. He didn't know where he was going, only that he had to get away.The woods loomed before him, dark and silent. He had always been warned not to go too deep into the forest, especially at night. But fear of what lay behind him was stronger than fear of the unknown, and so he ran, deeper and deeper into the shadows.The trees closed in around him, their branches like skeletal hands reaching out to snatch him away. The wind howled through the forest, a mournful sound that seemed to echo his own despair. He stumbled over roots and rocks, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.Hours passed, or perhaps it was only minutes—it was impossible to tell. The world had become a blur of darkness and fear, and Aarne's thoughts were a jumbled mess. But then, as he pushed through a thicket of bushes, he saw something that made his blood run cold.A group of men stood in a clearing, their dark figures illuminated by the light of a small fire. They were rough-looking, their faces hard and unforgiving. There was something in their eyes that made Aarne's heart pound in his chest—a cold, calculating look that spoke of danger.Aarne tried to back away, but it was too late. One of the men had spotted him, and before he could react, they were upon him. Rough hands grabbed him, dragging him out into the open. Aarne struggled, but he was no match for them. They were strong, and they knew exactly what they were doing."Look what we have here," one of the men sneered, his voice thick with an accent Aarne couldn't place. "A little rat, lost in the woods."The others laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. Aarne's heart raced as he realized what was happening. These men were not from his village; they were something else entirely—something much worse."Please," Aarne whispered, his voice trembling with fear. "Let me go…""Not a chance, kid," another man said, his grip tightening on Aarne's arm. "You're coming with us."They didn't give him a choice. They tied his hands and gagged him, ignoring his muffled cries for help. Then, with practiced efficiency, they led him through the woods, their footsteps silent on the snow.Aarne's mind was a whirlwind of terror and confusion. Who were these men? What did they want with him? But no answers came, only the cold, relentless march through the darkness.Eventually, they reached a small clearing where a van was parked. The men shoved Aarne inside, locking the door behind him. He was plunged into darkness, the sound of the engine roaring to life filling his ears. The van lurched forward, and Aarne was thrown against the cold, metal walls.As the vehicle sped through the night, taking him farther and farther from everything he had ever known, Aarne felt a new emotion take root in his heart—a deep, burning anger. The world had taken everything from him—his mother, his father, his home. And now, it was taking his freedom.But he wouldn't let it break him. Not again. Not this time.The van roared down the icy road, leaving behind the frozen woods and the small village where Aarne had once known a different kind of life. He had no idea where they were taking him, or what awaited him at the end of this nightmare journey.But one thing was certain: the boy who had run into the woods that night was gone. In his place was someone else—someone harder, someone who would survive, no matter the cost.