The city lights danced above me as I walked out of the party, my steps uneven, my mind spinning. The music still echoed in my ears, but everything outside was strangely quiet. I wasn't used to drinking, but tonight I had too much. I just wanted to forget for a while. Forget the screams. The blood. The darkness that still followed me even years after that night when I was only a child.
I was alone. Dizzy. It must've been around 8 or 9 PM. I didn't have the strength to call a cab or find my car. I was walking down a lonely alley, thinking it would be a shortcut. It was dark. Too dark. My chest started to tighten. The shadows on the walls reminded me of that night—the night I saw a man being killed right in front of my eyes.
I froze. My breath hitched.And then I saw him.
A tall man in black. His clothes soaked in blood. A black mask hiding half his face. His cold, sharp eyes locked with mine the second I turned the corner.A body lay at his feet.
I gasped. My body refused to move. My mind screamed, but my voice wouldn't come out.
His eyes didn't show fear. Not even panic. He looked... annoyed. Angry that I saw him.And then everything went black.
I fainted.
Somewhere between fear and darkness, I felt something. Not warmth—but strength. He picked me up. I didn't know who he was. But I felt his arms around me, holding me carefully.
My phone rang.
"Hello?" I heard him answer, his voice calm and low.
"Rida, where are you? This is her father," my dad said on the phone, worried.
"She's fine. I'm her friend. I'm dropping her home," he replied without hesitation.A lie. A strange lie. He didn't know me. I didn't know him. But he said it anyway.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in my bed.
Safe.
But something was different.
That face. Those eyes. That mask.
That man…
Why did he carry me home instead of hurting me? Why didn't he run? Who was he?
I sat up, still shaking, still afraid—but more confused than ever.
The next morning, I walked into my university class late, head down, heart still heavy.
And when I looked up...
There he was.
Standing in front of the blackboard.
Wearing a suit. No mask. No blood.
"Good morning, class," he said calmly. "I'm Professor Zahid Ali."
My heart stopped.
It was him.
The man from last night.
And he was looking directly at me.