CH1 Same Dream, Same Nightmare

The night was young, yet it felt like it had already stretched on for hours. I was slumped in the backseat of a car that I didn’t recognize, driven by someone whose name I couldn’t recall. The heavy bass of the music pounded in my ears, every beat rattling my already unsteady brain.

Bright neon lights from the city streaked past the windows, their glow blurring and doubling in my vision, making everything seem more surreal and disorienting.

The road was anything but smooth, and with every bump and jolt, I could feel my stomach twisting in knots. The combination of alcohol, motion, and the oppressive, suffocating heat inside the car wasn’t helping. I could taste the bile rising in my throat, but I swallowed it down, hoping it would pass.

I glanced to my side and saw my so-called friends, utterly oblivious to my discomfort. They were laughing, shouting over the music, their faces flushed from the booze. One of them, a guy whose name I think started with a "J," had a nearly empty bottle of some cheap liquor in hand, which he waved around wildly before taking another swig. Another friend, a girl who was leaning half out of the window, let out a loud cheer as the car swerved to avoid a pothole, clearly enjoying the ride far more than I was.

The bottle made its rounds, passed from hand to hand with reckless abandon, as if they were trying to outdrink each other in some kind of unspoken competition. Each time it came my way, I waved it off, the thought of taking another sip making my stomach churn even more violently.

“Come on, man! Don’t be a buzzkill!” someone shouted over the music, shoving the bottle back into my hands.

Reluctantly, I took a small sip, the liquid burning my throat and settling uncomfortably in my gut. I didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be a part of whatever this night was turning into, but it felt like I had no choice. The car, the laughter, the blaring music—it all seemed to be closing in on me, trapping me in a situation I didn’t know how to escape from.

I leaned back into the worn leather seat, closing my eyes in an attempt to drown out the chaos around me. But even with my eyes shut, I could still feel the car speeding along the road, the vibrations from the music coursing through the vehicle like a second heartbeat. Every bump in the road sent another wave of nausea crashing over me, and I could only hope that this wild, dizzying ride would end soon.

As the car hit another pothole, the atmosphere shifted from reckless fun to sudden panic. The laughter and shouting turned into screams of terror as the reality of the situation sank in. I felt the car lurch violently to one side, and in that instant, it was clear the driver had lost control.

The steering wheel was no longer a guide but a desperate tool in a futile attempt to correct the car’s trajectory.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Amid the chaos, the music continued to blare, a distorted soundtrack to the impending disaster. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears as the panic set in. The car swerved wildly across the road, the tires screeching as they fought to grip the asphalt. I could hear the driver cursing, his voice cracking with fear, but it was drowned out by the cacophony of screams coming from the backseat.

Then, there was a loud, gut-wrenching *thud* from the front of the car. The impact sent a shockwave through the vehicle, and I could feel the air being knocked out of my lungs. The tires squealed again, louder this time, as the car began to skid uncontrollably. The world outside the windows blurred into streaks of color, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still.

And then, the inevitable happened. The car tipped, and everything turned upside down. The world spun around me, slow and disorienting, as gravity lost its meaning. I was weightless, suspended in a nightmare where up and down no longer existed. The sensation of rolling—of tumbling head over heels—filled me with a sickening dread. I saw fragments of the scene around me: a friend’s arm flailing, the roof of the car crumpling, shards of glass floating in the air like dangerous snowflakes.

I couldn’t scream. The terror had taken my voice, leaving me with only the sound of my own heartbeat, thudding loudly in my ears. My mind went blank, too overwhelmed to process what was happening. The only thought that flickered through the chaos was that this was the end, that there was no way we could come out of this alive.

The rolling seemed to go on forever, each rotation punctuated by the crunching of metal and the shattering of glass. But eventually, the motion slowed, the car coming to a final, jarring halt. We landed on our side, the world still spinning, even though the car had stopped.

Everything was silent. The music had finally died, leaving only the haunting echoes of our screams and the groaning of twisted metal. I hung there, suspended by the seatbelt, disoriented and in shock. Pain began to creep into my awareness, dull at first but growing more intense with each passing second.

I don’t know how long I had been unconscious, but when I finally came to, I found myself hanging upside down in my seat, still secured by the seatbelt. My head was pounding, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell where I was or what had happened. The world around me was disorienting, everything bathed in shadows and blurred by confusion.

I tried to gather my bearings. The car was completely still, but the interior was distorted— everything upside down and jumbled. I was alone in the vehicle, the once-lively atmosphere

now replaced by an eerie silence. My friends, who had been so full of energy just moments ago, were nowhere in sight. Fear gripped me as I realized the severity of the situation.

I fumbled with the seatbelt, my hands shaking as I tried to free myself. My fingers were clumsy and numb, but I finally managed to release the buckle. I tumbled down onto the roof of the car, landing awkwardly on what used to be the ceiling. The impact left me winded, but I couldn’t afford to stay still. I needed to get out, to find out what had happened.

I crawled towards the broken window, the jagged edges of the glass scraping against my skin as I pulled myself through the narrow opening. My vision was still doubled, the world outside spinning as I tried to stand. The ground felt unsteady beneath me, and I swayed, struggling to keep my balance.

I attempted to call out, but my voice was weak, barely more than a croak. I began to walk, or rather stumble, down the road, every step feeling like I was moving through quicksand. The darkness around me was thick, and it was hard to see anything beyond a few feet in front of me.

Then, in the dim light, I saw something—a figure lying still on the road a short distance away. My heart dropped into my stomach as I approached, dread clawing at me with every step.

When I got closer, I could make out the form of a woman, her body motionless on the asphalt.

I knelt beside her, my hands trembling as I reached out, hoping she would respond. But she remained still, unresponsive. Panic surged through me as I called out for help, but my voice seemed to be swallowed by the night. There was no one around, no one to answer my cries. I was alone, with the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

In that moment, reality snapped back into focus. I jolted awake, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. The lingering echoes of the nightmare clung to me, the vivid images refusing to fade. My breath came in shallow gasps, and for a few seconds, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was still there—back in that overturned car, alone and terrified.

But slowly, as the seconds ticked by, the room around me began to come into sharper relief. The soft light from the window, the familiar shadows cast by the furniture—everything grounded me, pulling me away from the nightmare’s grasp. I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to take deep, steady breaths, trying to calm the storm raging in my chest.

I sat up in bed, wiping the sweat from my brow, and tried to shake off the residual fear that clung to me like a second skin. It was the same nightmare, the one that kept replaying in my mind, refusing to let me forget. No matter how many times I woke up from it, the weight of it lingered, heavy and suffocating.

I closed my eyes, counting my breaths, trying to gather myself. The room was quiet, peaceful even, but inside my head, the chaos still lingered. It took a few more minutes before my breathing returned to normal, before my hands stopped trembling.

The nightmare was over, but the memories it dredged up were still very real. And every time it came back, it reminded me of what I’d been through, of what I was still trying to process. I needed to move on, but in moments like this, it felt like I was stuck in the past, unable to break free.

I glanced at the wall clock. Ugh, it's 7 a.m. Just enough time to get ready for work, I muttered to myself.

Dragging myself out of bed, I crossed the room to the window and drew back the curtains. The warm morning sun streamed in, bathing my face in its soft light. It felt like a gentle reminder that, despite everything, life was still moving forward. I lingered there for a moment, soaking in the warmth, before turning to the task of straightening my bed.

After tidying up, I made my way to the living room. The stillness of the apartment greeted me, as it always did, but today it felt a bit more noticeable. I paused for a second, my thoughts drifting to the wealthy family who had gifted me this place. They’d given me more than just a roof over my head; they’d given me a sanctuary, a place to call my own after everything that had happened.

I’d been living alone here for the past couple of years, and strangely, it didn’t feel as isolating as one might think. Solitude had become a sort of companion, something that wasn’t necessarily bad—just different. The quiet moments, the uninterrupted peace—it all had its own kind of comfort. Even so, there were times when the silence was too loud, when I couldn’t help but feel the absence of something—or someone—else.

I headed to the kitchen, hoping to find something quick to calm my growling stomach. I rummaged through the cabinets and checked the fridge, but it was a disappointing search. Not a single snack or leftover to be found.

I guess I’ll just grab something on the way to work, I muttered to myself, slightly annoyed at my lack of preparation.

With breakfast plans dashed, I made my way to the bathroom to freshen up. The cool water felt refreshing as I washed away the remnants of sleep and the lingering unease from my earlier nightmare. Afterward, I got dressed, opting for something comfortable but appropriate for work.

I grabbed my apartment keys from the small dish by the door and took one last glance around the place. Everything seemed in order, quiet and still, as it always was.

As soon as I stepped outside, a chilly breeze hit me, and I immediately regretted not grabbing a jacket. The crisp morning air was biting, and I wrapped my arms around myself in a futile attempt to stay warm.

I joined the flow of people heading in the same direction, walking down the busy streets that were already alive with the usual morning hustle. Children laughed and chattered as they made their way to school, their energy infectious. I passed by a group of salary men hurrying to their offices, briefcases in hand, and overheard snippets of high school students’ conversations about the latest trends and gossip.

My workplace wasn’t far from home—just a short 5 to 10-minute walk. I found comfort in the routine, the familiar path lined with small shops and cafes opening for the day. Despite the chill, the city was waking up, and there was a certain warmth in that—the kind that came from knowing you were part of something larger, a world that moved forward with or without you.

As a college dropout, finding a high-paying job had always been a challenge. The lack of a degree limited my options, and I quickly learned that most opportunities required more qualifications than I could offer. But then, I got lucky.

A nearby convenience store took a chance on me, hiring me as a clerk. The work was straightforward—stocking shelves, assisting customers, and handling the register. It wasn’t glamorous by any means, but I took pride in doing it well. Over time, the management noticed my dedication. I showed up on time, rarely took days off, and made sure the store ran smoothly during my shifts.

Eventually, they decided to promote me to a regular position. It wasn’t a huge step up, but it came with a bit more stability. The pay wasn’t much, but it was steady, and it was enough to cover my modest lifestyle. For a single guy like me, it was sufficient. I could afford my rent, buy groceries, and even save a little for the future.

Sure, it wasn’t the career I once envisioned for myself, but it was honest work. And in a world that often felt uncertain, there was a certain comfort in knowing I had a job to go to, even if it didn’t pay a fortune.

Lost in my thoughts, I found myself already standing in front of the store. The familiar sight of the entrance brought me back to reality, and I walked around to the back entrance as usual. The morning was still chilly, but the walk had cleared my mind a little.

As I entered the backroom, the first thing I noticed was a familiar figure sitting in the chair by the table. Yumi was there, completely absorbed in what she was doing, which seemed to be taking pictures of her skincare products. Her phone was angled just right as she carefully arranged the bottles, her face lit up with a focused expression.

Yumi was a college student who worked part-time at the store. She had a lively energy that seemed to draw people in, always smiling, always friendly. She had a way of making everyone around her feel at ease, and it wasn’t hard to see why she was popular, especially with the guys. She was the kind of person who could strike up a conversation with anyone and make it feel effortless.

But for someone like me—introverted and guarded—it was a different story. I preferred to keep my distance, staying quiet and avoiding unnecessary interaction. I didn’t want to get too close to anyone, especially not someone like Yumi who was so open and warm. Maybe I was afraid of what she might think if she knew more about me, about my past.

Just as I was about to quietly slip past her, she noticed me. “Hey! You’re here. Good morning!” she greeted me with that bright, infectious smile of hers.

“Yeah, good morning to you too,” I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.

She let out a small sigh, stretching her arms over her head. “It’s so chilly this morning. I wish my place was closer. Walking here in this cold… ugh,” she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I nodded, offering a polite but noncommittal response. “Yeah, it is pretty cold.”

I always tried to keep our conversations short, avoiding anything that might lead to a deeper exchange. It wasn’t that I disliked Yumi—quite the opposite. But the idea of opening up to someone, even someone as easygoing as her, was daunting. What if she asked about my life? My past? It was easier to stay distant, to keep the walls up. Safer, even.

But Yumi had a way of making people feel comfortable, and part of me worried that if I wasn’t careful, I might let those walls down without even realizing it. And that was something I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

The day was dragging on with a slow stream of customers, and I found myself arranging the magazine stock behind the counter. The quiet of the store was almost soothing, allowing me to get lost in my thoughts.

“Hey!” Yumi’s cheerful voice broke my concentration. I looked up to see her walking towards me from the cash register, her expression a mix of concern and determination.

“You look pale. Did you skip breakfast again?” she asked, her eyes scanning my face.

I blinked, realizing I had been so absorbed in my own world that I hadn’t thought about eating. “Oh, I guess I forgot. I’ve been lost in thought.”

Yumi frowned, her brow furrowing with worry. “It’s not good for you to just collapse here. I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.”

I felt a twinge of guilt at her concern and tried to brush it off. “Yeah, sorry about that. I totally forgot.”

Yumi’s expression softened. “Fortunately, I made more food than I could eat this morning. We can share it. It’ll be good for you.”

Part of me was touched by her offer. If I were someone else, maybe I would have fallen for her kindness. But given my past and how I kept people at arm's length, I was wary of letting anyone in, even someone as genuinely nice as Yumi.

I tried to decline politely. “Ah, no need to go through all that trouble. I’ll just buy something later.”

Yumi was having none of it. Her resolve was firm. “No can do! You’re eating with me. I insist.”

Her insistence was endearing in a way, but I could feel the walls I’d carefully constructed starting to crumble. It was easier to stay distant, to avoid the possibility of getting hurt again. But as Yumi’s bright eyes looked at me with a mix of concern and friendliness, I found myself unable to say no.

“Alright,” I finally relented, giving in to her persistence. “If you insist.”

Yumi beamed at me, clearly pleased with her victory. “Great! I’ll just grab the food from the back. It’s going to be a nice break from the slow day.”

As she headed back, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and unease. Part of me was grateful for the unexpected kindness, while another part was hesitant about the implications of letting someone like Yumi into my life.

Yumi was humming a light tune as she exited the back room, her cheerful demeanor setting a positive tone for our lunchtime. With no customers in sight, we decided to eat at the cash register.

She placed a large, two-layered lunch box on the counter. I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at its size. Are you planning to eat that much? I wondered to myself.

Suddenly, Yumi’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Hmmm, don’t you dare say something. I’m not planning to eat it all myself, you know? I intended to share it with everyone.”

I was taken aback, momentarily thinking she might be able to read minds. Is she a mind reader or something? I thought.

“No? I haven’t said any of that,” I replied, confused.

Yumi’s smile widened. “Your eyes said so. Here.” She handed me the second layer of the lunch box, revealing an assortment of egg rolls that filled half of it. I glanced at the first layer, and to my surprise, it was packed with even more egg rolls. There seemed to be an endless supply.

"Uh. That’s a lot," I said, eyeing the mountain of egg rolls.

Yumi laughed lightly. "I guess I got carried away. Try them—I made them myself." "Thanks for this," I replied, picking up an egg roll and taking a bite. The flavor hit me immediately, and I was pleasantly surprised. It was delicious, far better than I’d expected. "This is good. Thank you," I said sincerely, looking up at Yumi.

Her eyes sparkled with pride. "I’m glad you like it!" she said, a wide grin spreading across her face.

Yumi often worked the same shift as me, usually clocking out at 6 p.m. for her night classes, while I stayed on until 8 p.m. It was already 7:55 p.m., and I was manning the cash register, which was typically busy at this time. However, tonight had been exceptionally slow, and I found myself growing a bit restless.

Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me. "Getting bored, are we?" Yumi’s playful tone startled me.

"Oh… I thought you clocked out already," I replied, turning to face her. "Don’t you have classes tonight?"

"Classes are canceled today, so I thought I’d earn some extra cash," she explained with a smile. "I’ve been in the back stocking our drinks."

"Oh… I didn’t even notice you," I admitted, a bit embarrassed.

Yumi raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. "Really? For two hours?" she asked, feigning offense.

I chuckled, realizing how absorbed I must have been in the monotony of the evening. "I guess I was lost in my own world," I said sheepishly.

At 8 p.m. sharp, Yumi cheerfully announced, "Time to clock out!"

Since the convenience store operated 24/7, there was another shift of employees coming in to take over. I quickly changed out of my work clothes and headed toward the back entrance, ready to head home and unwind. To my surprise, Yumi was waiting there, leaning casually against the wall.

"Uh… are you waiting for someone?" I asked, a bit puzzled. She flashed me a smile. "Hmm, I was waiting for you."

You mean waiting for me? Why? I thought to myself, though I was curious enough to ask aloud, "Why?"

"Well, we can talk while walking, right? I’ll walk you home. Your apartment is just around the corner, isn’t it?" she replied nonchalantly.

I blinked, taken aback by her offer. "No, that wouldn’t be right. A guy should be the one walking a girl home. So, I’m walking you home," I said firmly. It didn’t sit right with me to let her walk me home, especially this late at night.

Yumi shook her head, her expression playful but insistent. "Uh-uh. You don’t have to do that. My home is a station away from here, you know. Don’t stress yourself. And I’m the one who wants to talk to you."

I wasn’t about to back down, though. "At least let me walk you to the station, and I insist," I said, feeling the need to stand by my principles. It just didn’t feel right to let her walk me home when she’d have to head back alone.

She looked at me for a moment, then shrugged with a soft laugh. "Alright, you win. But don’t think I’ll let you talk me out of whatever I want to say."

We walked side by side; the streets were still somewhat busy even at this late hour. Shops and restaurants were still open, and the sounds of people enjoying their meals filtered into the cool night air. But as we moved closer to the station, the streets grew quieter, the lively chatter fading away into the distance.

The silence between us stretched on, neither of us speaking as we walked. I wondered what Yumi wanted to talk about, but I didn’t press her. Just as I was about to say something, she broke the silence.

"You know," she began, her voice tinged with a sadness that caught me off guard, "we’ve been working together for several months now, but you’re still so reserved. It’s like you don’t want to talk to me. Do you dislike me? Or am I just annoying?"

Her words hit me like a small, unexpected wave. I hadn’t realized that my silence had affected her so much. "No, it’s not that," I replied, my voice softer than usual. "It’s just that... I’ve had a hard time trusting people."

The truth of my words settled between us, and I could feel the weight of the topic pressing down on me. I didn’t want to continue this conversation—it was too personal, too difficult—but brushing her off would be rude, especially after all the kindness she had shown me.

"Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "Am I not trustworthy?" she asked, her tone curious rather than accusatory.

"No, it’s not that," I quickly reassured her. "I don’t dislike you or anything. It’s just... I have trust issues. With everyone, really. And, well, I’m just an introvert."

"Okay," she said, her voice laced with understanding. "I guess there are things you can’t tell other people. I won’t press you any further. It’s just... I’m worried about you. You always seem lost in your own world. But if you ever need help, you can count on me."

Yumi’s carefree kindness was both comforting and unsettling. She was so warm, so genuine, that it made her seem almost like the perfect companion—someone who could easily be wife material, as people would say. But no matter how much I wanted to believe in her sincerity, I just couldn’t let my guard down.

To me, trust was just another word for betrayal. No matter how kind or trustworthy someone seemed, the risk was always there, lurking beneath the surface. And that was something I wasn’t ready to face again.

As Yumi stepped onto the train, she turned and waved back at me with that bright smile of hers. I returned the wave, watching as the train doors closed and it began to pull away from the platform. Once the train was out of sight, I turned and began making my way down the station stairs.

It would be a 20-minute walk back to my flat, and the cold was already starting to bite. I regretted not grabbing a jacket earlier, but it was too late now. The night air was even chillier than it had been in the morning, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones. I walked slowly, knowing there was no one waiting for me at home. There was no rush to get back.

The streets, which had been bustling with life in the morning, were now eerily empty. The humidity had dropped, making the cold even more biting. Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, and the distant hum of traffic had all but disappeared, leaving the city in an almost unnatural silence.

As I walked, I passed by a group of college students. Their laughter and playful banter stood out in the quiet night.

“Yo, we’re friends, right? Could you lend me some cash? I’m just broke as F,” one of them said, his tone light but with a hint of desperation.

“No way. Just go ask your dad,” another replied, and the group erupted into laughter.

"Friends, huh," I muttered to myself as I continued walking, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. The scene brought back memories I’d rather forget—memories of the so-called friends who had betrayed me, who had left scars deeper than any physical wound.

The word "friends" had lost its meaning for me. It was hard to believe in it after what had happened. Trusting someone again seemed like an impossible task. As I walked further into the cold night, the memories swirled around me, uninvited and unwelcome.

But I pushed them away, focusing on the road ahead. The empty streets, the cold air, the distant hum of life—it was all just a part of the routine now. A routine I’d grown accustomed to, a life of solitude that I was slowly, but surely, learning to live with.

As I neared my apartment, a figure caught my eye—a woman standing not too far ahead of me.

Something about her seemed out of place. Her long hair floated as if caught in an invisible breeze, and her clothing was strange for such a cold night. She wore a simple white summer dress, its fabric fluttering slightly, an odd choice given the biting chill in the air.

She stood still, her gaze fixed on something across the road. Her presence was almost ethereal, as if she didn’t quite belong in this world. The sight made me pause. *Is she okay?* I wondered. Wearing a summer dress in this cold... The thought nagged at me, but I didn’t move, unsure of what to do.

Just then, she noticed me. Slowly, she turned her head, and our eyes met. For a moment, the world around us seemed to freeze. She smiled—a soft, knowing smile that sent a shiver down my spine, but not from the cold. There was something unnervingly captivating about her.

Before I could react, she turned away and started to walk. I took a hesitant step forward, but just as quickly as she appeared, she vanished. The streetlight above her flickered, and when it stabilized, she was gone, as if swallowed by the darkness.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, bewildered. My mind raced to make sense of what I had just

seen. Had she really been there, or was my mind playing tricks on me? Her image lingered in my thoughts—her long hair, the white dress, that smile...

Had I been dreaming? Hallucinating? The silence of the empty street pressed in around me, but no answers came. After what felt like an eternity, I shook my head and resumed walking, though my steps were slower, more uncertain.

As I reached my apartment door, I glanced back down the street, half-expecting to see her standing there again. But the street was empty, the night as quiet as before. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and unlocked the door, stepping into the warmth of my flat.

Yet, even as I closed the door behind me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just encountered something—or someone—extraordinary.

It's been days since I saw that woman, but her image hasn't left my mind. These past few days have been ordinary, with nothing out of the ordinary happening. The store has been busy, with Yumi clocking out at her usual 6 PM and me heading straight home at 8 PM. Yet, the memory of that night still lingers. I can't help but wonder who she was, or if it was just my imagination playing tricks on me.

Now, here I am, sitting at the cash register, waiting for customers. The store is quiet, with the usual rush already behind us. Yumi is next to me, completely engrossed in her cellphone, swiping and tapping away, occasionally letting out a small laugh. I glance over at her, but she’s too absorbed in whatever she’s looking at to notice.

There’s nothing left to do—Yumi and I already organized the shelves earlier. The minutes drag by, the silence occasionally broken by the soft chime of the automatic door opening whenever a customer enters, but those moments are few and far between.

As I sit there, my mind keeps drifting back to that night. I keep trying to rationalize it, but no explanation seems to fit. The more I try to forget, the more vivid the memory becomes. The way she looked, the way she vanished... was it real? Or am I just overthinking it?

“Hey, what’s on your mind?” Yumi suddenly asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t even noticed that she’d put her phone down and was now looking at me with a curious expression.

“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just... thinking,” I respond, trying to sound casual.

“You’ve been zoning out a lot lately,” she says with a hint of concern. “Is everything okay?” “Yeah, everything’s fine,” I lie, not wanting to drag her into my own confusion.

She doesn’t seem convinced, but she doesn’t press the issue. Instead, she goes back to her phone, though I can tell she’s still somewhat worried about me.

I sigh inwardly, trying to push the thoughts of that woman out of my head. Maybe I am just overthinking it. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, or some stranger who happened to disappear into the night. But no matter how much I try to convince myself of that, the nagging feeling remains.

Suddenly, a customer walked into the store. At first glance, I couldn’t determine their gender, but based on their stature, they seemed to be male. He was wearing a hoodie jacket with the hood pulled up and a facemask that obscured most of his face. Without hesitation, he headed straight for the magazine section.

As I watched him from the corner of my eye, a sense of unease began to build. His movements were restless, almost jittery, as he glanced around the store, his eyes darting from one spot to another. Something was off. His left hand remained buried in the pocket of his hoodie, creating an unusual bulge that made me even more suspicious.

I wasn’t about to take any chances. My instincts told me this could turn dangerous. I quickly called out to Yumi, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Yumi, come here for a second," I said, trying to sound casual. "Why?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"Just do it," I replied urgently, trying to mask my anxiety.

She gave me a questioning look but stood up and walked over to me.

I leaned in close, lowering my voice to a whisper. "Exit through the back and call the cops. There’s no time to explain. Go now and don’t ever come back."

Yumi’s eyes widened, but she didn’t ask any more questions. She nodded and, without making a scene, hurried towards the back door. I watched her go, relieved that she understood the gravity of the situation.

Meanwhile, the suspicious customer had selected a magazine and was now approaching the counter. My heart raced as he got closer.

"Welcome, sir. Is this all you’re buying?" I asked, keeping my voice as calm and polite as possible.

He placed the magazine on the counter, but his movements were slow, almost deliberate. I noticed the way his hand remained in his pocket, still clutching whatever was inside. My mind raced with possibilities—was it a weapon? Should I try to disarm him? My palms began to sweat as I scanned the magazine, trying not to let my fear show.

He finally spoke, his voice low and mufled by the mask. "Yes, just this."

I took the crumpled bill he handed me, noticing the slight tremor in his hand. I quickly made a change and handed it back to him, trying to stay composed. Every second felt like it stretched on forever.

"Thank you. Have a good night," I said, forcing a smile.

He didn’t respond, just stood there, staring at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. My heart pounded in my chest as I noticed his left hand slowly moving out of his pocket. I locked eyes with him, and in that instant, time seemed to stand still. A cold, creeping dread washed over me as I realized that this could be the end.

I braced myself, every muscle in my body tense. There was no one else in the store to help, no way to escape. I was utterly alone, trapped in this moment of fear.

And then it happened.

A deafening sound shattered the silence, echoing through the store. My mind couldn’t process what had just occurred. I blinked, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor, my body hitting the cold tiles with a thud. Pain radiated from somewhere deep inside me, but I couldn’t pinpoint where. It all felt surreal, like I was drifting in and out of reality.

My vision blurred, the world around me darkening at the edges. I could barely make out the flickering fluorescent lights above, the mufled sounds of the store fading into a distant hum. My thoughts were scattered, slipping away as my consciousness began to fade.

As I lay there, slipping into the cold embrace of unconsciousness, one thought echoed in my mind: Is this how it ends?