The interview on Wednesday went better than I dared hope.
A small diner, friendly colleagues, manageable hours. I could start next Monday. Eight hours a day, fifteen dollars an hour. Enough to pay rent, enough to keep food in the fridge.
For the first time, I felt something resembling stability.
Still… shadows followed me.
Every time neighbors argued, I flinched. Every slammed door or raised voice triggered memories I didn't want.
His ragged voice. The way he could make a room shrink with a single yell.
But in my apartment, it didn't happen. No hits landed. No doors slammed. No voices screamed in my ears. Here, for once, I was safe.
A few days later, I went grocery shopping.
Everything went as usual. I walked through the aisles, picked up what I needed, exchanged small talk with the cashier—normal life.
Until I saw him.
Or at least… he.
He was in the aisle ahead, holding a missing-persons photo—my own face staring back from paper.
My stomach froze.
The police had given up. But he hadn't.
I didn't think. I just reacted.
Hands shaking violently, back nearly collapsing twice, I shoved my items onto the conveyor belt.
The cashier, a friendly guy I sometimes chatted with, noticed immediately.
"Jake, are you alright?"
Stupidly, I answered. "Yeah… just in a hurry," my voice barely above a whisper, sharp with panic.
And then I heard it.
That breath. That sharp hitching inhale. A sound I could recognize from miles away.
He knew.
He recognized me.
My chest tightened. My legs moved almost automatically. I paid for my groceries, grabbed the bag, and bolted.
Every instinct screamed to run. To survive.
I twisted through streets, taking more turns than seemed necessary, heart hammering.
Finally, I reached my building.
I didn't just close the door behind me. I locked it. Twice.
Bathroom door. Bedroom door. Windows. Balcony door. Curtains pulled tightly.
I moved in circles across my bedroom, shivering, ignoring the groceries I had just bought.
Viktor… wakes up again.
Old habits surged back like a tide I couldn't hold back.
I was safe here. But part of me knew that safety was fragile.
And I had to survive, all over again.