Jay

Today was the first time you saw him. The boy everyone whispered about behind closed doors, the one rumored to be untouchable in his own world, was Jay, your brother’s best friend. Your brother had always talked about him, of course, but you never imagined you’d actually meet him. And now, here he was—tall, sharp-eyed, with a calm confidence that made everyone else seem invisible.

Days passed after that first meeting. Every time Jay came to your house, he brought the same small, thrilling gesture that made your heart race: a single red rose clenched between his teeth. Without a word, he would approach, lean slightly, and hand it to you. At first, it was awkward, a little strange, but soon it became your favorite moment of the day. Each rose felt like a secret message, a silent promise from someone who usually spoke so little.

But then, one afternoon, everything changed. You were heading to university with your friends, the sun warm on your back, laughing and chatting. Suddenly, the world shifted. A black car pulled up smoothly beside you. Before you could even register what was happening, strong arms lifted you inside, and the door slammed shut. Your heart raced, panic surged, but when you looked at him—Jay, calm and smirking in the driver’s seat—everything froze.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around on your own,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing, yet with an edge that made it impossible to argue.“I told you, some things… some people… aren’t safe out there.”