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Before he could even take hold of the phone, the sound came again.

No one has Chris's number and the only contact he's saved in his phone is his eighty three year old granddad's who can barely see to type.

Once he took out his phone, the text clearly popped out.

'DON'T' the first one read.

'DON'T DO IT CHRIS'  It said and the blade Chris was holding, clattered to the bathroom floor.

Chris's hands were shaking but he somehow managed to type. Using his phone for the first time since he bought it a year ago with his first savings.

'Who's this?'  He typed and pressed the send button. He looked around but couldn't see anything since the cubicle he was in was closed. The message was like ice water to the face. So shocking. Yet so random.

'Just get out of there Chris. Go home. Stay strong.'  The unknown replied and Chris was left open mouthed. He gulped and opened the door only to find a mop of long blond hair disappearing through the door of the toilets.

Who was that, he asked himself, still freaked out.

But something about that text conveyed that there is someone.

Someone who cares enough to keep an eye on him.

Someone who might actually care.

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