Night fell over the city with a monotony that felt almost ritualistic. The headlights of passing cars slid in front of Jake like meaningless flashes—identical to those of every day, identical to those of his entire adult life. He walked without direction, hands in his pockets, his mind lost in places he couldn't quite name.
Life, he concluded with bitterness, was nothing more than a sequence of mechanical tasks: you study for one third of it, work through the remaining two thirds, and if you're lucky, you survive long enough to buy a roof you can barely consider a home.
He stopped beside a streetlight and let the cold air brush his face. He had finished university hoping to feel free, but instead he had spent months trapped in a routine that drained him: eight hours of work, four of commuting, six days a week. At twenty-three, he already felt exhausted.
Jake wasn't ugly or shy; in fact, his imposing height and athletic build drew attention. His black hair, shining like obsidian, fell over green eyes that seemed too alive for the gray life he was living. Even so, he had never been in a relationship. He always said it "wasn't the right time," though lately that excuse tasted more like fear.
And loneliness was beginning to weigh on him more than he wanted to admit.
As he continued walking, a thought struck him with the force of an uncomfortable truth: he had no dreams. No goals. Nothing that pushed him to get up each morning except the duty to keep breathing.
Then he heard the scream.
A woman's scream, raw and desperate, shattered the stillness of the street like lightning across a clear sky. Jake froze, his heart racing, his mind still trying to understand whether the sound had been real.
The scream echoed again—louder this time—and he realized it came from somewhere nearby.
His body reacted before his thoughts did. He ran. He ran so fast he barely felt the pavement under his feet, until he stopped in front of an old house, eaten away by time. The broken windows, mold-covered walls, and sagging roof looked as though the structure had been begging to collapse for years.
Jake swallowed hard. Everything about the place screamed danger, but another muffled cry from inside crushed any hesitation.
He climbed through a glassless window, careful not to cut himself. The darkness inside was thick, almost tangible. The smell of humidity mixed with something more metallic—something his instincts recognized before his mind did: blood.
"Hello?" he whispered, even though he knew no one would answer.
He advanced between broken furniture and rotting boards until he reached what had once been a living room. That was when he saw him.
A man dressed completely in black, standing still as a statue. He wore a red mask with a demonic look, carved with angular lines that formed a twisted smile. The figure turned its head slowly toward him… but Jake hardly noticed.
Because at the masked man's feet lay a young woman.
She was sprawled on the floor, her clothes torn and her skin marked by cuts from which thin threads of blood flowed. Her tangled hair clung to a pale face that had almost lost all color. A pool of red spread beneath her like a living shadow.
And yet… she was breathing. Barely, but she was breathing.
Jake wanted to move, to run to her, to do something… but his body didn't respond. He was just an ordinary person, and he had never expected a day like this. The jump from monotony to horror was too overwhelming.
The masked man tilted his head slightly, as if examining him.
Jake remained frozen.
Just being caught in that gaze was enough to turn his blood to ice.
To be continued