I didn't want to go back to college.
Not after seeing him.
Not after what happened that night.
But skipping his class wouldn't erase the memory. And I didn't want to look weak. I had promised myself years ago that I would never let fear control me again.
But fear was already winning.
Every step into the campus felt heavier. My fingers trembled against my bag strap. My stomach twisted when I thought of sitting in front of him again.
I reached the class early and chose a seat in the farthest corner, hoping he wouldn't notice me.
But deep inside, I knew—he already had.
Flashback.
The scream.
The blood.
The man gasping for air before falling limp.
I was frozen that night, even my soul couldn't move.
I didn't see Zahid's full face.
Just the mask, and the look in his eyes—the cold, dangerous calm of someone who had killed before.
Yet he didn't run when I fainted.
He stayed. He picked up my phone. Lied to my father. Called himself my "friend."
He wiped the blood off his face. He carried me to his car. He dropped me home like a stranger trying to erase a moment that should've never happened.
But why?
He had no reason to help me.
Unless…He wasn't just a killer.He was something more.
Something I couldn't name yet.
The lecture started.
He walked in silently, dressed in a black button-down again, sleeves rolled neatly, face unreadable.
There was no smile. No warmth.
Just power. Cold, quiet power.
"Today's topic is trust," he said, standing tall. "It's a delicate thing. Once broken, it rarely returns in the same form."
His words stabbed me like a knife.I wasn't sure if he was speaking about psychology or about us—the secret we shared.
I tried to take notes. I tried to avoid his gaze. But my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Then it happened.
He called my name.
"Miss Rida, can you answer?"
I looked up slowly. "Sir?"
He walked closer. Too close. I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
"What does trust mean to you?"
Everyone's eyes were on me. But I only saw his.
What should I say?
That I lost my trust in the world when I saw a man shot to death in front of me at age seven?
That I never felt safe in the dark again?
That last night, I saw death again—and it wore his mask?
"Trust…" I swallowed hard. "It's when you believe someone won't hurt you. Even when they can."
He stared at me for a few seconds, silent.
Then… he turned away. "Correct."
But he knew.
He knew I wasn't just answering a question. I was speaking a truth that had burned in me for years.
After class, I tried to leave quickly. I didn't want another moment alone with him.
But he was waiting near the exit.
As I passed by, he spoke without turning toward me.
"You've seen things you weren't ready to see."
I stopped.
"You shouldn't carry this alone," he added.
I whispered, "Are you threatening me?"
He turned slightly, and for the first time, I saw something strange in his expression.
Sadness.
"No," he replied. "I'm warning you."
I didn't know what to say.
My voice was small. "Why didn't you hurt me that night?"
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then he said, "Because I don't hurt people who are already hurting."
And with that, he walked away.
Leaving me stunned. Confused. And even more drawn to the darkness behind his mask.