Sebastian Kruger-_

Night had fallen over the city. You quickened your pace as you walked home from your shift. Your job as a waiter at a café often kept you up late, and for the past few days you had felt as if someone was watching you. You had chalked it up to fatigue and stress, but now that the shadows were thickening and the streets were deserted, your fears had intensified.

The shadows were merging with the houses, and your breathing was becoming more rapid. The silence in your ears was interrupted only by the distant hum of cars. You quickened your pace, but your heart was pounding as if it was trying to escape from your chest.

“It’s paranoia,” you reassured yourself, but the cold sweat on your back and the trembling in your hands said otherwise.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps. Clear, confident, they sounded a little louder than the surrounding sounds. It seemed as if someone was following you, deliberately attracting attention.

You almost broke into a run, turning the corner, hoping to escape. But your attempts to escape were in vain. A strong hand grabbed your shoulder, and then roughly yanked you back.