An Exchange of Lives

Melody was an obedient child, timid by nature. Without Hope or me giving her permission, she would never wander into an unfamiliar place on her own.But surveillance footage showed otherwise. It captured her seemingly spotting something familiar, waving at it, and then running out of the camera's view with a smile.We searched everywhere among familiar friends and acquaintances. Just as we were about to call the police, a letter was delivered by the security guard.It read, "Call the police, and you'll see her dead."Later that evening, the security guard handed over a video.The background showed an abandoned concrete building.Melody was huddled in a corner, her small body filthy, her hands and feet bound tightly with duct tape, and a coarse cloth stuffed into her mouth. Beyond that, the video didn't reveal much.The kidnapper didn't appear on screen but spoke in a cold, distorted voice altered by a voice changer, laying out their demands.Five million.And a life for a life

Mom gently ruffled my hair before turning to leave.As I watched her frail figure shuffle away, disappearing around the bend of the stairs, a sudden thought hit me.Did Mom... really not know anything?Though she was often lost in confusion, there were rare moments when she would regain clarity and play with Melody.If she knew that this trip meant walking to her death...My mind went blank. I started to chase after her, but Hope yanked me back with all her strength."What are you doing? Do you want to get Melody killed?" she shrieked.I shook my head slowly, then collapsed onto my knees, defeated.The kidnappers, to their credit, kept their word. Melody came back that same night.Aside from red marks on her wrists and ankles from being bound and her eyes swollen from crying, she bore no other visible injuries.Hope held her precious Melody, crying and laughing in relief, her words tumbling out incoherently.I grabbed Melody from her arms, gripping her by the arm so tightly

"We can't call the cops!" I immediately rejected the idea without even thinking. "What if it angers the kidnapper, and they do something even worse? We can't stay by Melody's side every second of every day for the rest of her life."Hope's expression turned regretful, and she reluctantly agreed. Her exhaustion was evident—her complexion was pale and sallow, and the dark circles under her eyes were deep and heavy, as if she had aged ten years overnight.These past days, she was on edge every moment in fear that Melody might slip out of her sight and get in danger. Even at night, she only closed her eyes when her body could no longer hold out, waking shortly after in a panic.I finally made a firm decision. "We'll leave the country! We'll go somewhere no one knows us and start over."As for my mother's unfinished remains, there was no other way but to…I wiped my face roughly.Mom had devoted her entire life to me, and now she couldn't even leave behind a complete body, much less r

He remained calm and composed as he continued to explain his theories at his own pace."Unless, from the very start, this wasn't a kidnapping at all—it was revenge. They were certain you wouldn't dare call the police."Besides, if this were really a kidnapping, a deserted basement would be far more discreet than an abandoned building that could have vagrants wandering in. And as for murder, slitting someone's throat in one clean motion is far quieter than pushing them off a high-rise building."He paused, giving me an apologetic smile. "Oh, I forgot to mention this. According to the autopsy report, your mother's body had severe bone fractures and significant tissue damage. She must have experienced a massive, violent impact. She likely died from the fall before someone dismembered her."A fall...My breathing grew ragged, like an old machine groaning under unbearable strain giving out its last wails. My mind buzzed, roaring with chaos, as if a fierce windstorm had burst into my sk

The sound of a message alert rang out.The sender was an unknown number. Attached was a video.It was a person, hunched over and dressed in rags, with their hair matted and face so filthy that it was nearly impossible to make out their features. Yet those eyes' terror, despair, and pleading were so hauntingly familiar that they sent a chill down my spine.It was Mom.It was really her this time!In the video, Mom was kneeling weakly at someone's feet. Her forehead slammed against the concrete floor, leaving bloody marks with each desperate bow.After every strike, she lifted her face, her lips moving frantically, but only incoherent sounds came out—moans, sobs, and fragments of pleas."Please... I beg... Please… "H-Hunter..."The person in the video viciously kicked her, sending her sprawling to the ground and exposing her grotesquely twisted legs.Then came a voice both disturbingly familiar and alien to me. Every word dripped with icy hatred."Are you begging me to spare