Other Side

Heavy footsteps crash through the rain behind me, as I run. My face is struck by raindrops and streetlights smeared in glowing circles. I don’t look back, I know it’s him. A knife flashes in his hand, its reflection shattering and shaking in the wet pavement. My heart pounds, my legs locking as fear drives deep into me. I turn sharply and run into a narrow side passage, gasping. I push harder, desperate to escape. The walls close in and the cold wet bricks stop me—a dead end.

I spin around, his hand clamps over my mouth, I freeze. He slams me against the wall and my head strikes the bricks. His face is hovering just inches near me and his eyes fixed on me. “I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he says.

My chest rises and falls. I push my palms against his chest, but he doesn’t budge—solid as the wall behind me. “Leave me,” I plead.

“You saw,” he says. “You saw what you shouldn’t.” His voice is steady. His stare pins me and I can’t look away.

“No. Please, I didn’t—”

“I saw you,” he cuts me off. “You watched.” His eyes do not move and he pushes me hard and raises the knife high. My fingers goes numb, I plead. “I won’t tell anyone. Please, let me go. I’ll go somewhere else.” and I push against his chest again but he doesn’t.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “But you informed the police. Now I have no choice.” The knife rises slowly. I squeeze my eyes shut.

I bolt upright in my bed, gasping. Sweat clings to my skin, I still feel his breath on my neck and hear his words, I let out a shaky breath. But it’s not just a dream. It’s him—the killer. The same man Who I saw a week ago. I watched him killing a girl and when he saw me, I ran before he could reach me.

My hands shake as I reach for my phone. I fumble, trying to switch it on. He could find me any second. I Hold the end call button for a second, the screen stays black and then it turns on. I call the police station to get an update, on my complaint. I dial the police station to get the update on my complaint.

“What about my complaint?” I ask. “You haven’t arrested him yet? It been a week”

“Is this Aditi Sharma?”

“Yes.” I reply, A brief pause and he says “Miss Sharma, we’ve already looked into your report. There’s no record of any murder matching what you detail.”

“But I saw him. I saw him kill her. He had a knife. There was blood.”

“Ma’am, we found no body, no evidence of any such incident at that location.”

“ I saw, I am sure.”

“But without any lead, we can’t proceed.”

My voice shakes. “So that’s it?”

“At this time, yes. If you have any new information, you can say… Sorry” Silence for a moment and he says Take care, Miss Sharma.” and hangs up the call. The phone slips onto my lap.

I stare at the wall and my heart sinks. No one believes me, not even the police and the neighbors around me—no one talks to me, it’s been quite months since I came to this place—all stay inside. I walk to the window, the dawn brushes the sleeping city, feeling his eyes on me. Somewhere out there—in cracks and shadows—he waits for me.

“I can’t stay here,” I whisper. I move to the closet and pull on a dress and a hoodie and put on me. From the rear corner of the closet, I grab a pale envelope stuffed with cash, kept for any emergency. I leave my phone on the bed here and so he can’t trace me. I put the clutch slung over my shoulder and I step out. I don’t know where I’m going, but I have to run to stay alive. I look at the sunlight that bleeds into the sky. I choose a direction and start walking.

As I move forward, I see a couple walks on the opposite side. A man unlocks his scooter. Someone calls out a name from across the road. But the feeling doesn’t fade like someone trailing behind me. I tell myself I’m imagining, but the footsteps grow behind me, fast. Then—a hand clamps around my arm, fingers digging into my skin.