Chapter 3: Quiet Don’t Mean Safe

 Keisha

I kept telling myself I was imagining things.

That feeling you get when you swear somebody watching you even when the street look normal. Even when people walking past you like you just another face in the city.

But I knew what I saw.

Malik.

I ain’t say his name out loud again after I left that sidewalk. I didn’t trust my voice not to shake.

I walked two blocks before I finally slowed down, pretending I had somewhere important to be. Truth was, I just needed air that didn’t feel heavy.

Five years.

And he still had the same look when he said my name.

Like I never left his thoughts.

That’s the part I didn’t like.

Because I worked hard to become somebody who didn’t turn around when the past called.

My phone lit up in my hand. I almost dropped it when I saw the number.

Unknown.

I let it ring.

Then it stopped.

I stared at the screen like it might explain itself, but it didn’t.

I kept walking.

My apartment wasn’t far, but tonight everything felt longer. Every corner. Every shadow. Every car that slowed down too much.

When I finally got inside, I locked the door behind me and leaned against it for a second.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

I dropped my bag on the chair and kicked my shoes off slow. My body felt tired but my mind wasn’t letting me rest.

I walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, didn’t even drink it.

Because my thoughts kept going back to him.

“If you knew the truth…”

That’s what he said.

That’s what been looping in my head since I left him standing there.

I shook it off.

“No,” I said to myself. “I don’t care.”

But my voice didn’t sound convinced.

I grabbed my phone again, scrolling through nothing, just to keep my hands busy.

That’s when I noticed something weird.

My camera roll.

A picture I didn’t take.

It was dark, blurry, but it looked like my building entrance.

My stomach dropped.

I zoomed in.

My hand started shaking a little.

“Stop playing,” I whispered.

I checked the metadata like I knew what I was doing. I didn’t. I just needed answers.

But there weren’t any.

Just the picture.

No sender. No trace.

I locked my phone and set it down fast like it was hot.

Then I stood there in my kitchen, staring at nothing, trying to convince myself it was a glitch.

But deep down, I already knew.

This wasn’t random.

This was connected.

To him.

To earlier.

To whatever Malik was talking about.

I exhaled slow, trying to steady myself.

“Leave it alone, Keisha,” I said.

But my phone lit up again.

This time, a message.

Unknown number.

One line.

“You saw him. Now it’s already started.”

I stepped back like the phone might explode.

My chest tightened.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was just living my life.

I felt like I was being pulled into something I didn’t agree to.

Something I didn’t choose.

Something that already knew my name.