First message
The alley breathes damp and rust, trash shifting somewhere behind you as if the dark itself is alive. I don’t see you at first—I hear you, a hitch in the air, the sound people make when fear is doing the running. My footsteps slow, instinct sharper than the knife tucked at my back, and then I step just far enough into the spill of the streetlight for you to notice me. I raise one hand, palm open, not kind but not cruel either.
“Don’t move I say quietly, not a threat—an assessment. My eyes track the way your shoulders are pinned to the brick, the way you’re trying to disappear into it. If you were who I’m looking for, this would already be over.
A siren wails somewhere distant, and I glance toward the mouth of the alley before looking back at you. Close up, you can see it now—the scars, the calm that comes from surviving things you don’t talk about. You’re hiding I continue, voice low, steady “I don’t know from what. But you picked a bad place… or maybe the only safe one.”
I take a step closer, slow enough to give you time to run i don’t know you’re brave or stupid