Black Man Helps a White Pregnant Woman get to Hospital. The Next Day, a Motorcycle Follows Him Until

On a quiet October night, Chase, a 30-year-old Black man, was driving home after work. The road was calm, with only a few cars passing by. This was his favorite part of the day—cruising through the serene streets, music filling the car, and the city lights painting fleeting patterns across his windshield.

Suddenly, a pregnant white woman darted into the road right in front of his car. Chase slammed on the brakes, his heart pounding. The car screeched to a halt, but the woman stumbled and fell to the pavement. Chase jumped out, rushing to her side.

“Hey, are you okay? Why would you cross like that?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

The woman, pale and trembling, struggled to her feet and then burst into tears. “I want to die,” she sobbed. “Just hit me. End it all.”

Chase froze, unsure how to respond. A small crowd began to gather, murmurs rising as people took in the scene. Then someone shouted, “That filthy Black man hurt a white woman! He should be in jail!”

The accusation hit Chase like a punch, but he swallowed his frustration. Turning to the woman, he gently said, “Let’s get you off the road. Come sit in my car for a moment, okay? Just to calm down.”

She nodded weakly, and Chase helped her into the passenger seat. Inside the car, the woman introduced herself as Hina. She was 27, married for two years, and carrying her first child. Her voice trembled as she recounted her story. Ever since her husband had lost his job, he’d spiraled into alcoholism. The drinking soon gave way to violence, and Hina had become his punching bag.

“He wants the baby gone,” she whispered, tears streaking her face. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I have no family, no friends, no money. It’s just me and this baby, and I can’t take care of us. I thought maybe it would be better if we both left this world together.”

Chase listened in silence, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. After a moment, he turned to her. “I don’t have much, but why don’t you come stay at my place? I’ll give you a roof over your head and some food. In return, you can help with the housework. Deal?”

Hina stared at him, her tears falling freely now. “You’d really do that for me?”

Chase nodded. Overwhelmed with gratitude, Hina managed a small, shaky smile. For the first time in a long while, hope flickered in her eyes. As Chase started the car and headed home, he didn’t notice the motorcycle following them. The rider, a white man clad in dark clothing with piercing eyes, trailed them at a steady distance—a shadow waiting to strike.

Chase and Hina lived in harmony. She managed the house and cooked, while Chase, a factory worker, enjoyed their peaceful life. Over time, they grew close, seeing each other as husband and wife. Chase treated Hina’s unborn child as his own, attending every checkup and even taking parenting classes on weekends.

Their happiness shattered one evening when Chase found Hina crying on the sofa. After pressing her, she handed him a medical report: the baby had a severe defect. Doctors recommended ending the pregnancy to avoid future suffering. Hina was inconsolable, neglecting the housework while Chase desperately searched for a way to save the baby. But every effort failed.

“I never thought someone like me would have a wife like you and a chance to raise a child,” Chase confided, devastated. “Now I have to accept…” He choked on the words.

Through her tears, Hina whispered, “Maybe there’s one last way.”

Chase’s eyes lit up. “Tell me.”

“My mother once said I almost died before birth. She found a church, prayed, and offered something in exchange for a blessing. It saved me,” she said hesitantly.

Chase didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”

The old church still stood quietly in its place. Chase and Hina found it with ease and stepped inside. They were greeted by a white priest, Father Kaden, who appeared to be in his mid-40s.

“Welcome to this sacred place,” Kaden said warmly. “Here, even the most desperate can find salvation.”

Hope surged through Chase as he explained their plight and the unborn baby’s condition. Kaden listened with a calm smile, then said, “This is not difficult. All I need is for you to offer fresh, warm blood as a sacrifice to reignite the life within the child.”

Without hesitation, Chase agreed. It was their final hope.

As the baby’s due date approached, Chase underwent daily blood extractions as part of the ritual. Hina grew healthier, and the baby’s condition steadily improved. But Chase became pale and frail, yet he bore it willingly, believing in the sacrifice.

One day, Chase woke up after a long stretch of blood extractions. Dragging his weary body out of the church’s resting room, he overheard Hina talking to someone. As he got closer, he realized she was in conversation with Father Kaden. They seemed deep in discussion, unaware of his presence.

Just as Chase was about to greet them, the conversation stopped him cold. To his shock, Hina was married to Kaden. But Kaden wasn’t just a priest; he was the leader of a cult that despised Black people. They worshiped a strange deity, believing that the more Black people they killed, the more peaceful the world would become. Their plan had been to use Hina’s fake pregnancy to lure Black men—“ignorant fools,” as they called them—into the cult and slowly kill them off, waiting for two full moons to pass before the final sacrifice.

Fury and disbelief surged through Chase. He had been nothing more than a pawn in their twisted game. Slamming his hand down on a nearby table, he startled Hina and Kaden.

“You’re both insane! We Black people have done nothing wrong! Don’t we deserve to live?” Chase shouted.

Hina and Kaden’s true intentions were revealed, their cruelty now impossible to hide.

“You Black filth should all die so the world can be peaceful!” Kaden snarled. “Now you die.”

Before he could finish, flames erupted from beneath the table. The oil lamp had fallen, igniting the room. Chase rushed to escape, not caring about putting out the fire. He hoped the church would burn to the ground. As he ran out of the inferno, he looked back to see Hina and Kaden still standing in place, muttering prayers, convinced their god would protect them.

It was madness. Chase didn’t look back as the fire raged behind him. He was free—finally free. Now he could return to his life, alone but relieved, and pray he would never encounter someone like Hina again.