As I walk past the local bar, a long stretch of road beckons, and the sudden urge to run overtakes me. In an instant, I'm sprinting, my feet pounding against the asphalt. The cool night wind lashes at my face, my heart races in sync with my legs, and I push harder, faster.
The world blurs past me—streetlights, shadows, and empty sidewalks. I feel weightless, the air filling my lungs like fire. For a fleeting moment, everything seems possible, the road ahead as endless as the future. When I finally stop, breathless, I feel alive.
I sit down on a bench to catch my breath, the cool night air brushing against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. It's peaceful here, but something feels off. I glance around, shadows stretching long and dark under the flickering streetlights. For a moment, I swear I see movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn, there's nothing—just the stillness of the night.
A slight rustling comes from the bushes behind me, and my heart skips a beat. "Probably just a cat," I murmur to myself, trying to shake off the unease. Still, the feeling of being watched lingers, prickling the back of my neck. I stand up, telling myself it's just my imagination playing tricks on me.
As I walk back home, the excitement I felt earlier slowly drains away, replaced by creeping anxiety. The path, which seemed so inviting in the daylight, now feels oppressive and unfamiliar. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, makes me jump. I hug myself, the realization of my vulnerability dawning on me.
I'm in a girl's body now, I think, the weight of that truth settling heavily on my shoulders. The thought of being alone at night like this sends a wave of fear through me. The once-comforting chirping of crickets now seems ominous, like a warning. The darkness around me feels alive, pressing in, making every shadow a potential threat.
My steps quicken, the urge to get home growing stronger with each passing moment. The quiet street, which felt serene before, now feels eerily deserted, amplifying my sense of isolation. I glance over my shoulder repeatedly, my breath coming in shallow gasps, every muscle in my body tensed, ready to flee at the slightest sign of danger.
As I round a corner, my face bumps into a man lurking in the shadows just outside the bar. "Sorry," I mumble, trying to sidestep him and continue on my way.
But the man, clearly intoxicated and holding a beer in his hand, grabs my arm with a tight grip. "Hey... hey you... what's a girl like you doing out here all alone?" he slurs, his breath reeking of alcohol.
Fear crashes through me, and I yank my arm away, knocking the beer from his hand. The bottle shatters on the ground, and his face twists in anger. Without thinking, I bolt down the street.
His angry voice slurs behind me, and I hear the sharp crack of broken glass, then the heavy thud of his boots hitting the pavement. My stomach flips as I realize—he's chasing me.
I turn corner after corner, my shoes slapping against the pavement, but I can still hear him—his footsteps heavy and relentless behind me. My lungs burn, and each breath comes in ragged, desperate gasps. I dart down an alley, my heart hammering so loudly it drowns out every other sound.
I stop for a second, pressing myself against the cold brick wall, trying to catch my breath. My chest heaves, and my legs tremble so badly they barely hold me up. Sweat drips down the side of my face, but I don't have time to wipe it away. My body begs for rest, but I know I can't stop. Not yet.
Just as I gather the strength to push off the wall, I see him—rounding the corner, eyes searching wildly. He's too close. Panic squeezes my chest, and my breath catches in my throat. I stifle a sob and force myself to move, ignoring the sharp pain in my side as I bolt forward. Every muscle screams in protest, but I run anyway, the fear of him catching me stronger than the pain tearing through my body.
Suddenly, my foot catches on an uneven patch of pavement, and I stumble, my balance betraying me in the darkness. I try to regain my footing, but it's too late. I fall hard, the world spinning around me as I crash to the ground.
As I lie there, gasping for breath, the sound of the man's footsteps grows louder, each step a drumbeat of impending doom. Panic surges through me, but my limbs feel too heavy to move. I try to scream, but the night swallows my voice, leaving me mute and helpless. Desperation claws at my mind as I lie there, tears welling up. Curling into a ball, I hear the man's labored breathing, his steps slowing as he realizes I can't escape. The taste of iron fills my mouth as I bite my lip to stifle a sob. Shadows stretch and twist, reaching out like grotesque hands. I desperately search for a way to escape, but my body betrays me, leaving me to face the nightmare closing in.
I tense and shut my eyes, bracing myself for whatever the man might do. Suddenly, there's a sharp grunt followed by a heavy thud, shattering the oppressive silence. My heart leaps, a mix of hope and confusion surging through me. Slowly, I uncurl myself and look up, my breath still ragged, chest heaving. Out of the darkness, I see a shadowy figure moving with swift, precise movements. The man who had been chasing me is now on the ground, tackled, struggling beneath someone else.
In the dim light, I can barely make out my rescuer pummeling the man. When I wipe my tears and blink to clear my vision, I recognize him—It's Daniel. My mind reels. Why is Daniel here? How did he find me? But there's no time to think, no time to understand. The danger is still too close, the fear still clawing at me.
Daniel grunts as the man beneath him thrashes violently, fueled by anger and aggression. With a savage growl, the man shoves Daniel hard, his arm swinging out with brutal force. Daniel stumbles backward, his feet catching on the uneven ground. His arms flail, trying to regain balance, but he falls hard onto his back with a loud thud.
"Daniel!" I gasp, the word tearing from my throat. My body tenses as I watch, helpless for a split second.
Before Daniel can recover, the man is on him again, towering over him, pinning him to the ground with his full weight. My heart hammers in my chest, my breath quick and shallow. The man's fist slams down with brutal force, the sickening sound of flesh meeting flesh cutting through the night. Daniel grunts in pain, each hit knocking the air from his lungs. He tries to raise his arms in defense, but the man's strength is overwhelming, his rage unchecked.
I scramble to my feet, every nerve in my body on fire. My eyes dart around, searching for something—anything. Then I see it: a brick, half-hidden in the shadows. Without thinking, I rush forward, my hands closing around the cool, rough stone. My heart pounds as I hear Daniel groan, the sound sending panic through me like an electric shock.
I sprint toward them, my legs trembling but fueled by desperation. The man is still beating him, the sound of fists against flesh making my stomach turn. With a scream of fear and fury, I throw myself forward, raising the brick high over my head. My breath is ragged, and the adrenaline coursing through me sharpens every sense.
With every ounce of strength I have, I swing the brick. The crack of impact echoes through the night as it collides with the man's head. His eyes widen in shock for a brief moment—just a second—before his body goes limp. He collapses beside Daniel with a heavy, lifeless thud.
Silence falls, thick and suffocating, broken only by the man's shallow, unconscious breaths. My hand trembles as I let the brick fall from my grip, the weight of what I've done crashing over me. But there's no time to process it. I rush to Daniel, dropping to my knees beside him.
"Daniel," I whisper, my voice shaking as much as my body. His eyes flutter open, and despite the bruises forming on his face, he smiles weakly at me.
I stand up slowly, the weight of the brick still heavy in my hand. My breath is shaky as I look down at the man lying unconscious on the pavement. His body is still, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Blood trickles from a cut near his temple where the brick struck him. In the dim light, I notice a silver ring on his finger, glinting faintly under the streetlamp—a wedding band. My stomach twists at the sight, but I push the thought away, my mind too overwhelmed to process it.
My hands still tremble as I kneel back next to Daniel, my heart racing. His face is bruised, and there's blood on his lip, but he's conscious—alive. Relief washes over me.
"I'm getting help," I murmur, grabbing his phone with shaking fingers. I dial the police, quickly explaining what happened and giving them our location. Once the call is made, I look at Daniel, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Can you stand?" I ask, my voice thick with worry.
He nods weakly, and I manage to hoist him onto my back, my legs shaking under his weight. We stumble over to a nearby bench, where we both collapse, catching our breath in the cool night air.
Daniel grunts as he shifts his position, his face etched with pain. He looks up at me with a weak smile and says, "I'm glad you're safe." His words are strained but filled with warmth.
"Worry about yourself first," I say, gently moving his head so it rests on my thighs. I carefully check his injuries, my heart a tangle of gratitude and anxiety.
After some time, the police arrive and quickly arrest the man who attacked us. The officers then turn their attention to Daniel and me, checking to see if we're okay. Daniel musters a smile and says, "I feel better now," trying to downplay his injuries.
The police offer us a ride home, and we accept, the weight of the night slowly lifting from our shoulders. During the ride, the older officer starts lecturing us about the dangers of being out so late at night. "You kids need to understand, it's not safe to be wandering around at this hour. Anything could happen, and tonight it did. You were lucky this time, but it might not be the next time. Always think about your safety first. And Daniel, you should've tried to deescalate the situation or escaped when possible, even if someone you care about is being attacked."
The younger officer, sitting in the passenger seat, turns around and says to Daniel, "I get it, man. You wanted to act cool in front of her. Honestly, I would've done the same."
Before Daniel can respond, the older officer smacks the younger one lightly on the head. "Show some professionalism," she scolds.
The younger officer rubs his head and quickly apologizes, "Sorry, sorry."
Both Diana and Daniel managed weak smiles at the exchange, grateful for the brief moment of levity. As the laughter faded, Diana felt a shiver run through her, and she took a shaky breath to steady herself. The rest of the ride passed in silence, with only the hum of the road accompanying them.