A month had passed since that horrific night, yet the city seemed unfazed. The police? Clueless. Their investigations were just news headlines nothing more. No suspects, no progress. Just hollow words on paper.
Sometimes I wondered if they were even trying at all.
Online forums were buzzing with conspiracies some said Sara was killed by a devil, some believed it was a cult, and others blamed the "urban darkness" that consumed the city from time to time.
Devil? Cult? What nonsense.
None of these people knew who Sara really was. They didn't see the light she brought into a place like Ezo's Coffee Shop a shop that used to feel like a haunted house before she joined. Cold walls, empty tables, and no soul. She changed all that. Her presence warmed the place up. Customers smiled more when she was around. And us? We became more than coworkers. We were... something close to a family.
I remember the first day she joined. She rearranged the shelves, added her little decorations sunflowers in a cracked vase, a clock that ticked just a bit louder than needed and somehow made the whole shop feel alive. How could someone kill her? And if it was just a robbery… why did they kill her? Why?
Why?
Sam: "Kill that guy! He's behind you!" Sam's voice pulled me back into the moment.
Rahul: "Where?" I asked, my eyes scanning the screen.
Sam: "Damn, bro we were killed. You're spacing out again."
Rahul: "My mind's just not working right now…"
Sam placed the controller on the table and turned toward me.
Sam: "You're thinking about her again, aren't you?"
Rahul: "No, man. My controller was acting weird."
Sam gave me that look the one where he doesn't believe a single word.
Sam: "I feel for you, bro. Really. But you've gotta let it go at some point."
I didn't respond. I just stared at the screen. We were supposed to be gaming to distract ourselves, but even virtual bloodshed didn't dull the ache inside me.
Rahul: "I'll talk to you later," I said, needing space.
Sam left Before bed, I cleaned up the mess controllers, snacks, and empty cans. But as I stood in my living room, I suddenly felt... off. My head began spinning, the walls felt like they were closing in, and the light above me seemed to flicker unnaturally.
Then nothing.
I woke up with a jolt, sunlight cutting across my face like a blade. My skull throbbed with pain as if someone had driven a nail through it.
"Did I drink last night?" I muttered, unable to remember. My thoughts were foggy.
Showering didn't help. The heat of the water just made my head feel heavier. I threw on a shirt, made some eggs for breakfast, and turned on the TV just for noise, not expecting anything in particular.
But the breaking news made my stomach twist.
"Another brutal killing near the college. Victim found in an alleyway. No witnesses. Same method of murder as the Ezo Coffee Shop incident…"
My fork dropped from my hand. My appetite vanished.
No. It couldn't be. Another one?
I rushed out of my apartment, my head pounding with thoughts. Sara… and now this? There had to be a connection.
At the coffee shop, I tried to focus on work. Customers were already streaming in, ordering their regulars. Smiles, small talk, laughter like nothing had happened. The city never paused for tragedy.
Sam arrived a little after noon, his usual half-smile on his face.
"Wait a bit, I'm with a customer," I said, pouring a cappuccino.
He nodded and waited near the counter.
When the rush finally slowed, he walked up to me, hands in his jacket pockets.
Sam: "Got some news," he said.
Rahul: "If it's not about paying me back, I don't want to hear it."
Sam: "Funny," he smirked. "No, listen. There's this club. People who've lost someone go there to talk… share stuff. Might help you."
Rahul: "I'm not insane," I replied, annoyed. "I don't need a pity party."
Sam: "I didn't say you're insane," Sam replied calmly. "But you're not okay either. You've changed since Sara died."
Rahul: "It's called grief, Sam."
He hesitated before continuing.
Sam: "You called me last night."
Rahul: "What?"
Sam: "You called me. Drunk. You kept saying, 'I know who killed Sara… I saw him.' Over and over."
Rahul: "That's a lie."
Sam: "Swear on my life. You called me around two in the morning. You sounded scared. Or maybe angry I don't know."
I stayed quiet. I didn't remember making any calls. I didn't even remember falling asleep.
A customer interrupted us, complaining about the sweetness of their coffee, and I busied myself fixing it. By the time I turned back around, Sam was putting on his jacket.
Sam: "I know you don't want to hear it, but here's some advice leave this job, man. It's not helping. You're stuck in a loop."
He left with a nod, but his words stayed. "Leave the job for good."
The rest of the day felt heavy. Every time I looked around, I saw traces of Sara. The corner where she always wiped the counter. The stool she used when her feet hurt. The little shelf where she kept her notebook.
Night fell slowly, the city lights flickering on one by one. I cleaned the machines, counted the cash, and closed the shutters.
The street was unusually quiet.
That's when I saw him.
Under the yellow glow of a flickering street lamp stood a man tall, dressed in black, face half-covered by shadows.
The same man I'd seen outside my window the night Sara died.
This time, I didn't freeze. I didn't run.
I shouted, "Who are you? Are you responsible for Sara's death? Answer me!"
The man tilted his head slightly, as if amused.
"You're partially correct," he said in a voice that echoed like a whisper down an empty hall.
I ran toward him. My shoes pounded the wet pavement. But before I could reach him, he disappeared like a mist swept away by the wind. One moment he was there. The next, gone.
Not a trace.
I stood under the lamp, breathless, heart pounding.
He was real. He was connected. I didn't know how, but I knew he was involved in the deaths.
I clenched my fists.
Whoever he was, I would find him. I had to.
Even if it meant facing the darkest parts of myself.
Even if it meant becoming something I didn't recognize.