javytaxime14 Javiera Hidalgo

I thought I had buried my past for good. New name, new life—no one knew who I really was. Not anymore. I’d become someone else, someone normal. But then, out of nowhere, that letter arrived. A single line that ripped my world apart: "I know what you’ve done." Whoever sent it wants something from me, but that’s not what scares me the most. They know. They know the one thing that could ruin everything I’ve built. Every step, every breath since has felt like a game of survival. I can’t trust anyone, not even myself. I have to find out who’s behind this before my whole life unravels—before my dark secret comes back to destroy me.


Thriller Nicht für Kinder unter 13 Jahren.

#theblackmail
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A Dangerous Game

The letter came on a Tuesday.


It was an unremarkable day. I had just returned home after a long walk through the quiet streets of my neighborhood, enjoying the crisp morning air. Life had been peaceful. My studies at the university, learning psychology, gave me a sense of order I had always craved. The town I’d settled in was far from the chaos of my past, a sleepy place where nothing happened. That’s what I wanted—nothing.


As I sifted through the mail, a small white envelope caught my attention. No stamp, no return address, just my name scrawled in thick black ink.


"Katya."


Only one person knew that name.


I ripped it open, and my heart sank as I read the words.


"I know who you are, Lucy."


The air seemed to thicken. My legs weakened as I collapsed into the nearest chair. My hands trembled as I re-read the letter. Whoever sent this knew. I hadn’t been Lucy in years. After the “incident,” I buried her, dyed my hair, changed my name, and moved far from that life. I’d done everything to start fresh. But now, someone had found me.


The letter continued: "If you want to keep your new life, you’ll do as I say. I want what’s yours. You know exactly what that is. Don’t make me show the world what you did."


I sat in silence, staring at the letter. How could this be happening? I had been so careful. And what did they mean, "what’s yours"? There was nothing of value in my life except my career and... my silence. Was that what they wanted? Money?


I turned the letter over, searching for clues. The handwriting was deliberately sloppy, no obvious tell. The paper was standard, nothing distinctive. Whoever sent this wanted to stay hidden, but they made one mistake—they underestimated me. I wasn't a frightened girl anymore. I'd learned how to survive.


The first few days after the letter were suffocating. I couldn’t concentrate on my lectures, my stomach tied in knots every time I opened my door, half-expecting to see another envelope waiting for me. The paranoia crept in—who could it be? A former classmate? Someone from my past life? I combed through faces in my memory, but nothing made sense. I hadn’t left a trail. I had been someone else for too long.


That Friday, another letter arrived.


This time, it was more direct: "I want $50,000. Leave it in the park, under the bench near the fountain, by midnight tomorrow. No cops. No tricks."


Fifty thousand dollars? I didn’t have that kind of money. The only thing I could give was myself—my past. Was that the real currency?


The hours ticked by. I needed answers, and fast. But how do you find someone in the shadows when you’re the one being hunted?


I made my first move: confronting my own history. The one person who knew more about my past than anyone else was Aunt Maria. She had helped me transform, but I hadn't spoken to her in months. I hesitated as I dialed her number. Her voice was sharp, as always.


“What is it, Katya?”


“I need to ask you something. It’s about… Lucy.”


There was a pause, and I heard her breath catch. “Why are you talking about her? I thought she was dead.”


“I thought so too, but someone knows. I’m being blackmailed. I think… I think they know everything.”


Aunt Maria was silent for a moment. “Come over. Now.”


I arrived at Aunt Maria's house, heart pounding. She sat at her kitchen table, hands folded, her piercing eyes scanning my face like I was a child caught in a lie. She had been my savior back then, the one who helped me bury my past and start anew.


“You look awful,” she said, handing me a glass of water. “Tell me everything.”


I recounted the letters, the demands, the threat hanging over my head like a noose.


“Whoever this is,” I finished, “they want something from me. They want what’s mine.”


She leaned back, her expression unreadable. “And what’s yours, Katya? What do you have that they could possibly want?”


I shook my head. “I don’t know. Money? A confession?”


“No.” aunt Maria’s voice was low. “It’s something else.”


I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”


“There’s something you haven’t told me about what happened. That boy… Max. What did you take from him? Not just physically, I mean.” She leaned closer. “What did you leave with?”


The question hit me like a punch to the gut. I had taken a lot of things back then—his fear, his trust, his safety—but none of it was tangible.


Except one thing.


I had a strand of his hair, from when I was obsessed with him, back when things spiraled out of control.

Could that be what they wanted?


I hadn’t thought about that in years.


Aunt Maria’s eyes narrowed. “You know exactly what this person wants. You need to find out who they are before it’s too late.”


The next evening, I made my way to the park, $50,000 short but desperate for answers. The air was thick with tension. I sat on the bench, waiting, scanning every shadow. My pulse quickened with every passing second.


At exactly midnight, a figure emerged from the darkness. They wore a hood, obscuring their face. My heart pounded, but I stood my ground.


“You didn’t bring the money,” the voice said. It was distorted, masked.


“No,” I replied, my voice steady. “But I brought something better.”


I reached into my bag and pulled out an envelope. Inside was the strand of Max’s hair I had kept all those years. I held it up for them to see.


“Is this what you want?”


The figure froze, then stepped closer. For a brief moment, I thought I recognized something about the way they moved—too familiar.


“Who are you?” I demanded.


The figure hesitated, then reached up, slowly pulling back their hood. My breath caught in my throat as the light revealed the face beneath.


It was Jake. Max’s best friend.


The shock hit me like ice water. “You…”


“You didn’t think I’d find out, did you?” he spat, his eyes burning with anger. “You ruined his life. You ruined everything.”


“I—” The words stuck in my throat. I had thought Jake had disappeared after the kidnapping, never to be seen again. But here he was, standing in front of me, seething with rage.


“You think changing your name, dying your hair would erase what you did?” he continued. “You think Max just forgot?”


Tears welled up in my eyes, the weight of my actions crashing down on me. “I didn’t… I was sick. I didn’t mean for things to get so out of control.”


“Out of control?” he shouted, his voice echoing in the empty park. “You destroyed him! He trusted you, and you used him like some kind of… experiment.”


I took a step back, the guilt nearly suffocating me. “What do you want, Jake? Why come after me now?”


Jake’s face twisted with a bitter smile. “Max is never going to be the same. You stole something from him, something you’ll never be able to give back. And now, I’m going to make you pay.”


The letter wasn’t about money. It was never about money. Jake wanted revenge. He wanted to see me broken, just like Max had been.


I felt a cold wave of terror wash over me. “Jake, please. I’m not that person anymore. I’ve changed.”


“People like you don’t change,” he snarled. “You just hide. And now I’m going to make sure everyone knows exactly who you are.”


In that moment, I knew I had no way out. Jake wasn’t going to stop until I was exposed, until my carefully built life crumbled to dust.


There was only one thing left to do.


“Jake,” I said quietly, “I can’t undo the past. But if you tell the world, you won’t just ruin me. You’ll ruin Max. You know that.”


His expression faltered, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly.


“If you want to hurt me, fine,” I continued. “But don’t drag him into this. He’s moved on. He’s trying to rebuild his life, just like I am.”


Jake hesitated, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, clearly conflicted. I had found the one thing that could stop him—his loyalty to Max.


The silence between us stretched thin, the tension unbearable. Finally, he spoke.


“Max never forgot you, Katya. He never will.”


With that, Jake turned and disappeared into the night, leaving me standing alone in the park, clutching the strand of hair in my trembling hand.


The park was emptier than I’d ever seen it, just me and the wind and the ghost of Jake’s threat. I didn’t go home right away. I wandered the streets, the streetlights casting long shadows, my mind circling around what had just happened. Jake’s words had cut deeper than I expected. Max hadn’t forgotten. That part stung the most. I had fooled myself into believing he had moved on, just like I had.


By the time I returned to my apartment, dawn was beginning to peek through the blinds. I hadn’t been back more than an hour when my phone buzzed. It wasn’t a number I recognized. For a second, I thought about ignoring it. Then I pressed accept.


“Katya.”


The voice was soft, familiar in a way that made my heart clench.


“Max?” I whispered.


“Yeah.”


I sank onto the edge of the bed. “How did you—”


“Jake told me everything.”


Of course he had. It was inevitable.


I ran a hand through my hair, gripping the phone tighter.

“I—Max, I’m sorry.”


There was a long pause on the other end. I imagined him pacing, struggling with words, the way he always did when we were kids.


“I don’t care about your apology,” he said, voice suddenly sharp. “You think that makes this go away? You think a few sorrys make up for everything?”


“No. I don’t,” I replied quietly. “I don’t expect anything from you.”


His silence crackled like static. I could hear the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “You destroyed everything, Katya. You ruined me.”


“I know.”


“I trusted you!” he yelled, voice cracking. “I trusted you more than anyone, and you—”


“I know!” I cut him off, the emotion finally spilling over. “I know what I did, Max! You think I don’t remember every single day? You think I don’t relive it all?”


I could hear his breathing, heavy, uneven, like he was trying to control the storm inside. “Jake wanted to ruin you, but I told him no.”


“Why?” I asked, genuinely confused. “Why not let him? Why even call me?”


“Because… because as much as I hate you, as much as I want to see you pay for what you did, I can’t do it.” His voice broke, the vulnerability seeping through. “I can’t let him drag me down with you. I’ve been climbing out of that hole for years.”


Tears welled in my eyes. Max didn’t know how close he had come to being destroyed. He had escaped, but I was still drowning in my own guilt.

“I never meant for it to end like that,” I said softly. “I was sick. I was out of control, but that doesn’t change anything. I know that.”


“You think I care about your excuses? You think that makes it easier for me to sleep at night?”


I swallowed hard, closing my eyes, trying to keep my voice steady. “What do you want me to do?”


“I don’t want anything from you, Katya. Not your pity, not your guilt, not even your remorse. I just want to forget you.”


His words sliced through me. I bit back the tears, forcing myself to respond. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll disappear. You won’t hear from me again.”


For a second, there was only the sound of his breath on the other end. I could picture him, the boy I had known so well, now a man I had hurt beyond repair.


“Good,” he said at last, his voice hard, cold. “Don’t come back.”


And then he hung up.


The days blurred together after that. I didn’t go to class. I ignored calls, avoided emails, shut myself off from the world.


The conversation with Max played on a loop in my head, a reminder of the life I had shattered and the pieces I could never put back together. The guilt I had been suppressing for years came rushing back, drowning me in its weight.


But I knew I couldn’t run forever. I couldn’t hide from myself. Max might have been done with me, but Jake wasn’t. The threat still lingered.


A week after that phone call, I received another letter.


"I’m watching you."


That was all it said. No demands this time, just a promise. A reminder that I wasn’t free.


I knew Jake wasn’t going to stop until he had his revenge. He wanted me to feel the fear, the helplessness that Max had felt. He wanted me to be the one looking over my shoulder, wondering when the hammer would fall.


I spent the next few days waiting for the inevitable. I jumped at every shadow, flinched at every knock on the door. It was suffocating.

But as the days passed, the anxiety turned into something else—anger. I wasn’t the same person Jake remembered. I wasn’t going to cower in fear.


If Jake wanted to destroy me, I would make him work for it.


I hired a private investigator. I needed to know more about Jake, where he was, what he was planning. I didn’t have the resources Jake thought I did, but I had enough to find him.


Within a few days, the investigator had a file on my desk. Jake had been living in the same city as me for years. He had a job, a life, just like I did.


But there was more.


His life hadn’t been smooth. He had debts. Gambling. A history of violence. He wasn’t the righteous avenger he pretended to be.


The anger inside me hardened into resolve. Jake was just a broken man, no better than me. He was lashing out because he couldn’t fix what had been taken from him.


I made one last move.


I went to Jake’s apartment. When he opened the door, his face went pale.


“You thought you could scare me into running again,” I said, voice steady. “But I’m not running anymore.”


For the first time, Jake looked uncertain. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, fists clenched at his sides.


“I know about your debts, Jake. Your little problems. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to leave me alone, and I won’t tear apart the life you’ve built for yourself.”


Jake’s face twisted in anger. “You think you’re going to blackmail me?”


“No,” I replied, my voice calm. “I’m just giving you a choice. The same choice you gave me.”


For a moment, we stood there, locked in a silent standoff. Then, slowly, Jake’s fists unclenched. He stepped back, eyes dark with frustration.


“You win,” he muttered.


“I’m not trying to win, Jake. I’m just trying to survive.”


And with that, I walked away, leaving my past—and Jake—behind me.

9. Oktober 2024 14:34 0 Bericht Einbetten Follow einer Story
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Über den Autor

Javiera Hidalgo 🇪🇸: Chilena, viviendo en Santiago, escritora novata (por ahora al menos 😊). Creo que, como escritora, todo lo que necesitan saber es que soy espontánea. También me gusta crear historias en las que le doy una perspectiva única a los personajes y situaciones. /// 🇬🇧: Chilean, living in Santiago, novice writer (for now at least 😊). I think, as a writer, all you need to understand is that I am spontaneous. I also like to create stories where I put a unique spin on characters and situations.

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Ruaridh K Ruaridh K
Loved the mystery and suspense in this short story. I was hoping we would find out what exactly she did to Max.
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