I loved sweets, but I couldn’t afford to accept anything from strangers.

Actually, I was just about to leave the house when I saw, through the gap between the thick curtains and the window, a black jeep pulling up at our entrance. It was not parked, the engine was running, as were the headlights, but it would not have been possible to see who was hiding inside even if one wanted to.

The car turned out to be tightly tinted all around.

“Mom…” I called quietly, first turning up the volume on the TV almost to maximum.

Having taken my place, she also did not move the curtains, but as soon as she saw the jeep, she quickly pulled me by the hand, dragging me away from the window. I knew the next steps in advance, having lived through each stage many, many times.

Whatever we were doing at that moment, as soon as a threat appeared, we dropped absolutely everything. The parent only took the laptop and bag in case of escape, and I took the e-reader and backpack. Things, food, water – the minimum set was available in each pre-prepared car. Well, my mother carried money and documents with her, preferring to keep them closer to her hands.

Pull on cloaks, put on hoods. We didn't even take the time to lock the door. They either climbed out through the window or went down the stairs if there was a second exit at the entrance.

There were usually pre-rented cars parked on each side of the house. Of course, in financial terms, such reinsurance cost a large sum, but more than once it came to the rescue and saved us from an immediate meeting with the pursuer.

– Mom, maybe it’s just someone else’s car? Did any of the neighbors or guests come to someone? – I asked, sitting down in the front seat and buckling up. – Maybe this maniac has long forgotten about us, huh? And he lives his quiet maniacal life somewhere in a quiet place.

– Don't be stupid, Sally! – she said sternly, sharply backing up and turning the steering wheel.

I had thought before that my parent was simply sick. The older I got, the less I believed in the invisible pursuer who never caught up with us. Moreover, my mother said almost nothing about her childhood and youth.

What if she spent them in some asylum? Maybe all these years she needed special medicine, the help of qualified specialists, and year after year I mindlessly continued to support her illness?

“Mom, maybe we should just stop and find out what he or she needs from us?” At the same time, we’ll understand if someone is following us…” I suggested carefully, trying to track her emotions.

Focused, confident, gloomy. She didn't look like she was mentally ill.

– Never! – she hissed, no worse than a snake, clutching the steering wheel with incredible strength until it creaked. – Do you hear? Never dare to even think about it!

I wanted to say something else, but in the rearview mirror I noticed that same black jeep. Exactly the same one, because I had a good look at the numbers, first trying to concentrate and at least see something through the tint. The car confidently increased speed and threatened to catch up with our car, but my mother did not give up. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor, driving out onto a suburban highway, mired on both sides in green fields, electrical towers and tall trees.

There the car was rushing at great speed along a flat road, almost imperceptibly. But the road was easier for the jeep too. He was practically breathing into our trunk.

– Mom, train! – I shouted, hearing the growing roar of the express rushing along the railway.