THE MARTIRES SQUARE.

The rain, which had started in the afternoon, continued to fall. The cold drops soaked Daniela as she walked, clutching her rag doll tightly. She shivered from the cold, and every step made her tremble even more. She felt small and defenseless. She was just a child, wandering under the dark night sky. Her wet, worn-out sweater no longer provided warmth, clinging to her body and seeming to grow heavier by the minute. Her battered shoes let the water seep in, chilling her tired feet. Everything around her seemed darker and more hostile under the rain, the shadows, and the pale moonlight.

She had left home because she couldn't bear the loneliness. Her mother hadn’t returned since the day before, and the empty apartment frightened her as much as the hunger gnawing at her stomach. Daniela thought that if she looked for her, maybe she would find her on one of the nearby streets, as she had done before. But time had passed, and now, under the relentless rain of 11:15 at night, the square felt like a strange, menacing world rising up against her.

The clock tower had struck the hour a few minutes ago, and its echo seemed to linger in the air. Daniela didn’t want to be there, but she didn’t know how to go back. As she crossed the square, she spotted three men sitting on a bench. They were surrounded by empty bottles and a haze of smoke with an odd smell.

—Look at that little thing coming this way. —Said one of them, pointing at her.

—Hey, girl, are you lost? Come here, we don’t bite. —Sneered another, eliciting laughter from the group.

Daniela lowered her gaze and kept walking, trying to ignore them. She hugged her rag doll against her chest as if it could shield her from harm.

But then, as she turned onto a narrow path, she saw another man. He stood under the flickering light of a streetlamp. His messy hair and oversized jacket gave him a disheveled appearance. Daniela froze when she noticed something in his hand: a small, rusty knife that glinted under the dim light.

—Hey, little girl. What are you doing out here so late? —He asked, a crooked smile spreading across his face.

The man took a step toward her, and Daniela stepped back.

—Don’t be scared. Come on, I won’t hurt you. —He said, though his tone was anything but reassuring.

Fear propelled her to turn and run toward the trees. As she did, the man’s footsteps began to pound behind her, growing faster and louder. Daniela tripped on a root and fell to the ground. Her knees scraped against the cobblestones, leaving a trail of blood that mixed with the dirty rainwater. The pain was sharp, but her fear didn’t let her stop.

She scrambled to her feet, dropping her doll in the process. Warm, sticky blood trickled down her legs from her wounds. She didn’t want to look. She couldn’t.

She kept running, deeper into the shadows of the trees, when something strange happened. A whisper, soft and cold, reached her ears:

—Keep running, Daniela. Don’t look back.

The voice wasn’t the man’s, nor her mother’s. It was different, almost like an echo from the trees themselves. But what unsettled her the most was the scream she heard behind her.

She dared to glance back. The man had stumbled and fallen near where she had dropped her doll. He was trying to get up, but his hands slipped on something slick: a red stain that hadn’t been there before. Daniela blinked, confused, realizing it wasn’t her blood. The roots seemed to be soaked in a dark, almost black liquid, and a vague figure, like a shadow, was crawling toward him.

The man let out a blood-curdling scream as something grabbed his leg and dragged him into the darkness. Daniela only caught a glimpse of torn flesh and the knife falling to the ground with a metallic clink before she turned and ran again, tears streaming down her face.

Daniela kept running, her chest burning and her soaked feet barely responding to her will to flee. The rain didn’t let up, as if the sky itself was determined to erase all traces of hope. The shadows among the trees seemed to multiply, stretching into impossible shapes that defied her tired eyes.

The sound of the bells rang out suddenly, reverberating through the damp air. The clock tower struck 11:30, and its echo reverberated like a heartbeat in Daniela’s chest, forcing her to stop in her tracks. She gasped for air, not just from exhaustion but also from the growing, almost palpable unease in the atmosphere.

Before her, in the middle of the darkness, the shadow appeared again. It didn’t walk or emerge; it was simply there, as if space itself had molded it from nothing. It was larger now, its edges rippling like a thick liquid that ignored the laws of reality. Daniela stepped back, her body trembling so violently she could barely move.

The shadow extended an arm, twisted and black as the abyss, holding her rag doll. Daniela’s eyes widened as she saw it.

—Take it. —The voice whispered, cold and distant, laced with a tone that blended urgency and supplication.

Daniela hesitated. Her fingers trembled as she finally reached out. As soon as she touched the doll, the shadow’s arm disintegrated, crumbling into ash that the rain washed away. Then, the figure vanished without a sound.

Clutching the doll against her chest, Daniela stepped back. Her relief lasted only seconds before she heard footsteps approaching.