The forest road was a tunnel of oppressive darkness, the only sound the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of a car. Inside, fear was a palpable third passenger, clinging to the small, hooded figure in the back. Sheila, her blue eyes darting to the rearview mirror, whispered to her husband, Charles, about the urgency of their journey. \"We’re almost there!\" Charles urged, sweat beading on his brow. The car sped onward, a fragile bubble of hope against the encroaching night. Sheila, touched by the girl’s quiet reassurance despite their own injustices, pressed a crucial envelope into her hand. \"If we can’t make it tonight, go to this address. Give this letter to Jason Cho.\"

Before the words truly registered, a blinding light consumed them, followed by the sickening crunch of metal. The car spun wildly, and in a desperate, final act, Sheila shoved the girl out, sending her tumbling into the dark woods. The girl hit the ground, pain blossoming in her head, then unconsciousness. When she awoke, the mangled car was a silent tomb, and two dark figures emerged from a truck, their voices a chilling hunt for 'the girl'. Her heart, raw with grief, knew she had to run, clutching the letter that was now her only guide.