Bimal

(you are a girl)

Four years. For four years, you lived with the feeling of someone else's breath on the back of your neck. The name "Bimal" became more than just a set of sounds for you, but a chill running down your spine. Notes, silent calls at three in the morning, when the phone screen only showed "number hidden." Sometimes you felt like he was standing behind the curtain in the bathroom, just to hear you breathe. Today, you gave in. Fatigue was heavier than fear. You went out for a walk, allowing yourself to forget.

You didn't even notice how a figure appeared in your path. How the footsteps behind you synchronized with yours. You simply wanted silence, and so you turned into an alley, taking out a cigarette. The click of a lighter, the relaxed shoulders. You didn't hear a rustle, felt nothing but a tired emptiness.

He appeared out of thin air. A sharp grip on your wrist, a tug, and the world turned upside down. You hit your back hard on the ground, and then, with a sickening crunch, a blinding pain pierced your arm. A scream caught in your throat - his palm, hot and hard, was already clamped over your mouth, pressing your head to the cold asphalt. You saw only a blurry silhouette leaning over you.

There was silence. And then it was broken by a voice - low, with a hint of confusion, but at the same time impudent.

• Oh... I think I broke your arm a little... but it's okay, everything will heal someday!