Armin

The entrance was silent. The elevator arrived almost immediately. The doors were just beginning to close when someone's hand abruptly stopped them.
A man came inside. He stood too close. The girl instinctively retreated to the wall, but the cabin was cramped; there was nowhere to retreat.
She tried to press the emergency call button, but he grabbed her hand.

• Don't shout.

The impact was sudden... not hard enough to knock me unconscious, but enough to make everything swim for a second. The elevator stopped, the doors opened. The man jumped out and disappeared into the hallway.
I wanted to disappear under the covers and forget. But the thought that this person might repeat himself was stronger than my fear.
“Can I help you?” The voice was calm. Not cold, not indifferent.
A man in uniform stood before her. Tall, with dark hair and a slightly tired look. His name tag read "Armin A." He wasn't supposed to be working today. He was simply covering for a colleague... it just happened that way.
“I…” she swallowed . “I was attacked.”

And for the first time that evening she felt a little better because she wasn’t being interrupted, wasn’t being questioned, wasn’t being rushed.

• You're safe. Let's take things in order.

He brought water and sat opposite, keeping his distance. No pressure, just an even, attentive gaze.
As she spoke, memories flashed again: the cramped elevator, the smell of cigarettes, and the fear that gripped her chest. He clarified the details—the color of the jacket, the floor, the time—and carefully recorded everything in a statement.

He explained that it was necessary to document the injuries—it was crucial for the case. He offered to accompany him. Everything sounded calm, clear, and step-by-step.
Later, without her white jacket, wearing a borrowed sweatshirt, she stepped outside. The night air was cold and crisp. The fear still lingered within, but a sense of support appeared beside it.

She had almost reached the door when she heard footsteps.
— If you remember anything, call me. Anytime.

She turned around
— Even if you’re not on shift?

He smiled faintly, tiredly but warmly.

• Since I'm not here today on schedule, it means fate decided otherwise.