Rain tapped gently against the windshield as the city’s neon lights flickered through the misty night. The air outside was thick, heavy with the scent of wet asphalt, but inside the car, it was just the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sigh from the woman in the backseat.

  Julian gnced at the rearview mirror. The woman, likely around 31, sat with her head leaning against the window. Her makeup was smudged, her lips a bit too red, and her eyes—though bloodshot—were full of the kind of lingering sadness that only comes with years of unspoken regret. Julian could tell she had a mature look about her, one that came with experience, perhaps even a quiet crisis. Her posture slumped slightly, as if the weight of her life was becoming too much to bear.

  He didn’t think much of it, though. It wasn’t his job to ask questions, just to get people home safely.

  “Sure this is your pce?” Julian asked, his voice polite but tinged with the exhaustion of a long shift. It was already past midnight, and his eyes felt heavy, but he couldn’t afford to skip a beat. He needed the money. His university degree in musical arts wasn’t going to pay for itself, and he had too many bills to get through.

  She didn’t respond immediately, her voice coming out in a soft murmur. “Mhm… yeah, I think so,” she said, a faint giggle escaping her lips.

  Julian smiled, though the expression was more out of habit than enthusiasm. He stopped the car in front of an apartment building, the engine shutting off with a low rumble. “Alright, let’s get you inside.”

  He opened the door for her, stepping out into the cold, wet air to help her. He didn’t mind—it was part of the job. People tended to get careless after drinking, and Julian made it a point to always walk his clients to their door. Safety first, that was his motto.

  The woman stumbled forward as she got out of the car, her heel catching on the pavement. Julian reached out instinctively to steady her. “Hey, easy there,” he said, his hand gently supporting her elbow.

  She didn’t say anything but smiled up at him, her face flushed with alcohol and something else he couldn’t quite pce. She seemed momentarily grateful, leaning against him with a slight sway. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.”

  Julian didn’t push her away. He’d seen people in worse shape. She wasn’t completely gone, just a little unsteady.

  When they reached the door, the woman fumbled with the keypad on the side of the building. The security system beeped, and the door clicked open. She stepped inside and hesitated, her back to him, looking down at the screen on her phone.

  Julian stood in the doorway for a moment, waiting for her to open it fully and step in. When she didn’t, he gave her a gentle nudge. “You good?”

  She looked up, her eyes unfocused, and took a step forward, still unsteady on her feet. Her shoulders slumped, her movements sluggish. Julian followed her inside to make sure she didn’t fall. As he walked in, the door clicked shut behind him, locking automatically.

  He gnced up in surprise. The door had locked behind him. He reached for the handle, but it didn’t budge.

  The woman, still unaware of his confusion, turned back to him. “Why are you still here?” she asked, her voice a little too sharp now, though still ced with the lingering haze of alcohol. “I thought you’d go… what’s wrong with you?”

  Julian hesitated, looking at the door again, a sense of unease creeping into his gut. “I… the door’s locked. I think I should—” He stopped himself. It wasn’t his pce to get involved any further. “I’ll just—”

  But before he could finish, she staggered toward him, her smile widening. There was a sudden coldness to it now, something unsettling. “No. You’re staying,” she purred, her voice dropping into something darker.

  She leaned in too close, brushing her fingers along his arm. Julian’s stomach turned, and a nervous ugh escaped him. “Listen, I really should be going. You’re drunk, and I can’t—” He stepped back, trying to put space between them.

  Her expression faltered for just a second, then turned into something cruel. “Oh, I see. You’re too good for me, huh?”

  The words stung more than they should have. He wasn’t sure why. He never let clients get under his skin. Still, Julian swallowed, trying to keep his voice calm. “No, that’s not it. I just think you need to sleep, not… not something else.”

  But her face twisted with frustration. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t say no to me.”

  He took a step back, raising his hands in defense. “I’m just trying to help you. Let’s just—”

  Before he could even move, she pulled something from her purse, the sharp glint of a pocket knife catching the dim light. Julian’s heart smmed against his ribs. What is this?

  “Stop,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, though panic was starting to creep into his chest. “Don’t—please don’t.”

  Her eyes, wide and wild, locked onto him. “You think you’re better than me? You think I’m some kind of joke?” Her voice had a sharp edge now, cutting through the air with venom. “You’ll do as I say.”

  He backed up a few steps, trying to think clearly. The door was locked, and there was nowhere to run. What happened to her? He tried to reason with her, tried to stay calm. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. Let me go.”

  But her hands were steady now, the knife held with terrifying certainty. With a scream of fury, she lunged at him, stabbing him again and again. Each strike was swift, fueled by rage, the cold steel sshing into his side, his chest, and his abdomen. He gasped, his body jerking with each blow. The pain was immediate, sharp, and relentless, shooting through him like lightning.

  “No, please!” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper, his head spinning as his vision blurred. Blood dripped from his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to stop her.

  She wasn’t finished. She kept stabbing, her hands moving with a terrifying precision. Julian could feel his legs give way. He couldn’t breathe. The pain was unbearable, and his vision was darkening at the edges. His chest constricted as he fought for air, panic cwing at him with every inch of his failing body.

  I’m going to die. The weight of it sank in, overwhelming him. Fear surged through him, cold and suffocating. There was nothing he could do, no way to stop her, no way to escape. His mind raced, but his body couldn’t respond. The st thing he felt before everything went bck was the paralyzing fear of death—uncontrolble and overwhelming.