A band of men

The clock on the phone showed half past eleven at night. The sneakers dully beat out steps on the uneven tiles, reflecting the emptiness of the city. A few apartments dimly lit up in the windows of multi-story buildings. The area was old, abandoned in places. The streetlights flickered, as if they were about to go out.

You were always afraid of the dark - under the bed as a child, in alleys like these. But today, the fatigue from university was stronger than your fear. There was no way to call a taxi, the buses hadn't been running for a long time, and your classmates wouldn't go too far.

Your heart was beating unevenly, a dry anxiety settled in your chest. But your body was exhausted. You were on autopilot, disconnected from everything that could scare you. The screen brightness was reduced, you looked at the feed: videos, cats, funny trends. You wanted to cling to at least something normal, at least to the illusion of safety.

You heard a slight rustling sound behind you. You froze for a moment, but waved it off: "It seemed so." The alley was narrow, echoing, every step echoed in the walls. You came to the end, the main street was visible ahead: wide, with cars, lanterns, people. You just needed to go out there.

But you saw them. A group of guys, six or eight of them, all in black. Hoods, masks, bandanas. Your body was tense. You tried to walk faster, but not run. Sharp movements could attract attention. Your head went over them: only keys. No spray can or knife in your pocket. Your phone wouldn’t help.

You walked past. They either didn't notice, or pretended not to. Someone laughed. You almost breathed a sigh of relief, when suddenly you heard from behind:

• Kitty, kitten.