CHAPTER 6 - NARROW DEATH ESCAPE.

NARROW DEATH ESCAPE

It was Sunday.

My only day off.

I woke up to the sharp beep of my phone, the sound cutting through the silence of the motel room. For a moment, I didn’t move. My body still ached from the week. My back. My waist. My pride.

The only thing my grandfather hadn’t cut off was my phone.

I reached for it slowly and squinted at the screen.

Mr. Mark.

My stomach tightened instantly.

I opened the message.

Meet me at the Grand Meridian Hotel by 4:00 p.m. I’ll be waiting.

I stared at the words for a long time.

The Grand Meridian.

I knew that place. Everyone did. Tall glass building. Valet parking. Marble floors. The kind of hotel I used to walk into without even slowing my steps. The kind of place that smelled like money and control.

Now it felt like a test.

I dropped the phone onto the bed and rolled onto my back, staring at the cracked ceiling. The fan rattled overhead. Somewhere outside, a car horn blared.

Sunday.

My only day off.

I thought about the hundred-dollar bill tucked inside my bag. Thought about my empty fridge. Thought about the coming week, the aching muscles, the humiliations

I would pretend didn’t hurt.

I picked up the phone again.

Four p.m.

That gave me time to think.

Too much time.

I closed my eyes, my heart pounding.

… … … ..

I was bored.

The kind of boredom that makes your thoughts turn ugly. The kind that presses on your chest and won’t let you rest. I kept looking at the time, counting backward from four p.m., my phone heavy in my hand.

I still didn’t know if I was going.

I didn’t know who he was. Just a man who smiled too easily and slid a hundred‑dollar bill into my palm like it was nothing. A bill my father wouldn’t notice if it went missing. A bill my grandfather wouldn’t even remember existed.

And yet it mattered to me.

That was the part that scared me.

My head felt full. Too full. I needed air. I needed to move before my thoughts swallowed me whole.

So I walked.

I wandered through narrow roads where buildings leaned in too close, their shadows crawling along the pavement. My footsteps echoed too loudly. Every sound felt sharp. Exposed.

Then I turned onto a road that felt wrong the second my foot touched it.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

The air felt thick, heavy, like it was holding its breath.

That was when I saw them.

Two men.

At first, my mind refused to understand what my eyes were seeing. One man had the other locked against him, his arm wrapped around the man’s neck from behind.

Not a fight.

Not a shove.

A chokehold.

The trapped man struggled. His legs scraped against the ground. His hands clawed uselessly at the arm crushing his throat. I could hear the wet, broken sound of breath fighting to exist.

My body went cold.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t even blink.

The bigger man didn’t look rushed. Didn’t look angry. His face was hard, hollow, haggard. Like someone who had done this before. Like someone who knew exactly how long to hold.

Seconds stretched. My heart slammed so hard it hurt. My lungs burned even though I wasn’t the one being choked.

Then the struggling slowed.

Stopped.

The body went slack.

The man loosened his arm and let the other man collapse to the ground like discarded clothing.

I felt sick.

Then he turned.

Slowly.

Hunting.

Deliberately Looking for witness.

My blood froze.

I knew—knew—that if his eyes landed on me, that would be it. No screaming. No running. No second chances.

I moved without thinking.

I dropped behind a wooden table shoved against the wall, pressing myself into the shadows.

My knees scraped the ground. I didn’t feel it. I pulled my arms tight against my body, trying to make myself

smaller, Smaller, and Smaller.

My breathing was too loud.

I forced my lips shut, breathing through my nose, shallow, desperate.

My heart was betraying me, pounding so violently I was sure he could hear it.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Heavy.

Each one landed inside my skull.

My muscles locked. My hands trembled so badly I had to dig my nails into my palm to stop them from shaking.

Please don’t look here.

Please don’t come closer.

My foot shifted.

A dry stick snapped beneath it.

The sound cracked through the silence like a gunshot.

My soul left my body.

“Who’s there?” he said.

His voice was low. Rough. The voice of someone who wouldn’t hesitate.

Footsteps came closer.

I couldn’t breathe.

My chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside. I pressed my forehead against the wood, my whole body vibrating with terror. I could smell the dirt. The rot.

The fear.

I was certain this was the moment.

This was how people disappeared.

Then—movement.

A blur of fur shot out from behind the table.

A cat.

It bolted into the open, claws skidding against the ground, tail fluffed, eyes wild.

The man stopped.

He stared at it.

“Stupid animal,” he muttered.

My knees nearly gave out.

He turned away, cursing under his breath, his footsteps moving in the opposite direction. Fading. One step at a time.

I stayed frozen.

One second.

Two.

Three.

I didn’t move until the silence settled again.

Then survival took over.

I ran.

I ran like my life depended on it—because it did. My feet slapped the ground, barely touching it. My lungs screamed. My heart felt like it might burst straight through my ribs.

I didn’t stop until I hit the main road, lights flooding my vision, sounds crashing back into existence.

I bent over, gasping, shaking so hard my teeth chattered.

I hugged myself, nails digging into my arms.

I was alive.

Barely.

My body kept shaking, even when my mind tried to calm. Every shadow looked dangerous. Every sound felt like footsteps behind me.

Four p.m. didn’t matter anymore.

Money didn’t matter.

Pride didn’t matter.

I had looked death in the face.

And it had almost looked back.

When I finally reached the motel, I was panting…

My chest rose and fell too fast. My heart slammed so hard I could hear it…

feel it…beating against my ribs like it was

trying to escape.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump… .

I stood in the hallway, hands braced on my knees, staring at the peeling paint on the wall while my vision swam. Every sound felt amplified. A door creaking somewhere. Footsteps outside. A distant car horn.

I straightened slowly, my fingers trembling as I reached for my room.

That was when I saw it.

A piece of paper.

Slipped neatly under my door.

My stomach dropped.

I froze.

I stared at it for a long moment, my mind scrambling. Had it been there before? Had I missed it when I left earlier? Or had someone come while I was gone… crouched here… close enough to touch my door?

My skin prickled.

I bent down slowly, like sudden movement might make something terrible happen. My fingers brushed the paper. It was real. Solid. Not my imagination.

I unfolded it.

The handwriting was rough. Angry. Pressed hard into the paper, like whoever wrote it wanted to tear straight through.

My dress. My expensive dress.

You ruined it.

My breath caught.

You will pay for it.

The words felt like a hand closing around my throat.

This is where you stay.

I felt dizzy.

“You clumsy… …

I stopped breathing entirely.

“You clumsy dick head “

The paper shook in my hands.

My chest tightened so painfully I had to press my palm against it. The hallway suddenly felt too narrow. Too exposed. Like eyes were everywhere. Like someone might be standing just out of sight, watching me read.

They knew where I lived.

They knew… .

My mind raced. The woman at the bar. The man who had nearly hit me. The way they’d stared. The way everyone had watched.

I backed up slowly, my shoulders hitting the door. I fumbled with the key, nearly dropping it twice before it slid into the lock. I slipped inside and slammed the door shut, twisting the lock with shaking hands.

Only then did my knees give out.

I slid down against the door, clutching the note to my chest like it might burn through my skin. My heart wouldn’t slow. My breathing wouldn’t steady.

I wasn’t just tired anymore.

I wasn’t just poor.

I wasn’t just humiliated.

I was being watched.

And suddenly, the world felt smaller, darker, and far more dangerous than it had ever been inside my grandfather’s mansion.

I pressed my forehead against the door and whispered to the empty room,

“What have I done?”