As I stroll through the streets of Braxton City, the sound of my footsteps echoes on the sidewalk, the only noise breaking the silence of the night.

I'm trying to clear my mind after leaving Owen's place. The city is quiet, almost devoid of life, and the darkness wraps around me, creating a sense of tranquility. I find solace in the shadows, enjoying the peacefulness it brings.

But my peaceful walk is soon disrupted as I notice two figures emerging from a nearby building.

As they draw closer, my heart quickens and my hands become clammy. Clad in dark clothing, they radiate an unsettling aura, their eerie laughter sending shivers down my spine.

"What do we have here?" one of them rasps, their voice lacing my body with an icy dread.

I try to ignore them and continue on, but they persist, trailing me with each step. I quicken my pace down the dimly lit street, the sound of footsteps behind me growing louder and more insistent. My hope is to put some distance between us, but they match every stride.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see only their shadows behind me. My heart races, and I fumble for my phone, ready to dial for help.

A menacing chuckle interrupts my thoughts. "Put that phone away."

In a matter of seconds, they catch up to me, their hulking frames blocking my path and pinning me against the cold, hard wall of a nearby building.

As I stare up at their scarred faces, illuminated by the flickering streetlights, I gasp in shock, and my eyes widen behind my glasses as I try to think of a way out of this terrifying situation. However, I keep my lips sealed, not uttering a single word as I stand frozen in fear.

"Show no fear, Clarice," is the only thing my brain tries to tell me at this moment.

The man standing on my left side raises his hand to caress my chin, grinning, "Such a pretty little thing shouldn't wander alone at night."

"That's right, keep your mouth shut," the other guy snarls, his hand closing around my wrist in a vice-like grip.

In the midst of silent panic, a sharp and unusual metallic sound jolts me. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. The man on my left stiffens and falls to the ground, a knife protruding from his back.

Only seconds later I see a sharp object fly to the other guy's neck. It's stabbing him deeply and his blood sprays across my face before he falls to his knees.

Paralyzed in place, I stare at the horrifying scene before me. My throat constricts, making it difficult to breathe. The metallic scent of blood fills my nostrils as the crimson liquid pools on the concrete, staining the ground.

His blood stains my glasses, impairing my vision and adding to the scene before me. I quickly survey my surroundings, searching for any signs of life, but the streets remain eerily quiet. Horror grips me as I realize I'm alone with lifeless bodies.

As if the nightmare couldn't worsen, a low groan emanates from one of the victims, a haunting sound that will forever echo in my ears. He is barely clinging to life, his breathing shallow, and his eyes filled with agony.

After what feels like an eternity, I make a run for it. I sprint as fast as my legs can carry me, occasionally glancing over my shoulder. As I run, I can hear distant shouts from men.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I quickly duck behind the corner of the building, feeling the rough brick scrape against my skin as I press my body against the wall.

I hold my breath and peek out cautiously, scanning the street. My eyes dart from side to side, searching for any suspicious figures or movements.

Just as I begin to relax in a false sense of security, a strong grip wraps around my waist, and a hand forcefully covers my mouth, stifling my screams. I'm yanked into the darkness of the alley, assaulted by the nauseating smell of garbage and decay.

My heart skips beats as a deep, menacing voice whispers in my ear, "Sshh, don't make a sound."

Despite my fear, I recognize the deep voice and try to calm myself down. Suddenly, he swirls us around, still holding me tightly from behind. We both freeze as a car passes by the driveway, its headlights illuminating the blind alley for a split second before disappearing into the night.

The moment the car zooms past us, my intimidating captor releases his tight grip on me. I can feel my palms start to sweat as I whisper, "What are you doing here?"

My neighbor's silence only intensifies my discomfort, and I frantically search for my phone to call the police. I have to report the heinous crime I had just witnessed.

"I wouldn't do that," he growls in a menacing tone.

I turn my attention back to him and retort, "What? These two men are dead. I need to report it."

But his response catches me off guard. "What men?" he asks innocently as if he has no idea what I'm talking about.

I step onto the deserted street and with my trembling hand I point to the spot where the gruesome murders occurred. "Right there!" I exclaim, my voice shaking with emotion. "They were lying in a pool of blood."

My companion's response is cold and dismissive, "There is nobody there, Clarice."

Anger surges within me, frustration boiling over. "Are you saying I'm crazy?" I demand, my fists clenched tightly.

He takes a step closer, his shadow looming over me like a dark cloud. "Not at all," he replies.

A sudden realization hits me like a thunderbolt - he could be involved in the murder.

"Who were these men?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

A dismissive scoff escapes his lips, a hint of mockery in his tone. "There were no men. You must be tired. Just go home."

I take a step back, "Was it the German Mafia?"

I await his response, but my neighbor remains obstinately silent again. The eerie silence amplifies the tension between us, the night's faint hum serving as a stark contrast.

"Are you from the mob too?" I ask, hoping against hope that he'll say no.

A humorless laugh rolls over his lips, sending chills down my spine. "If I said I was, would you go home?" he retorts.

I cringe at his words, unable to believe a single thing that comes out of his mouth. "Are you even trying to sound convincing? Because you're failing miserably," I retort with a defiant tone.

His laughter fills the dark alley, the sound bouncing off the brick walls and sending shivers down my spine. As goosebumps spread across my skin, he takes deliberate steps closer, circling me with slow and casual grace. "You're quite the intriguing one, Clarice, but your fearlessness in the face of all fears leaves you vulnerable."

"That's right, I'm not scared of you, mister," I mutter proudly, trying not to show any kind of vulnerability that he is mumbling about.

His second circle brings him behind me, and the darkness seems to close in as his massive form casts a looming shadow like a towering skyscraper. His hands slide to my neck from behind, and I tense up, every muscle in my body ready to react. 

This dark man leans in, his voice a haunting whisper near my ear, "Oh, but you should be afraid of me."

The trembling of my lower lip betrays my unease, and I manage to breathe out a shaky question, "Why?"

"Hmm," He growls, "It would be such a shame if this pretty neck of yours were to snap."

Was that a threat?

As he releases his grip, he completes his menacing circle, standing directly in front of me. The silence is deafening, only broken by the sound of my own rapid heartbeat echoing in my ears.

Slowly and cautiously, I begin to retreat, my gaze locked on his ominous silhouette. Finally, I turn and sprint, driven by an insatiable need to escape the darkness and seek refuge in the illumination of the street.

As I run away from him, I search for my phone, trembling hands struggling to open the Uber app. Panic courses through me again as I desperately search for the nearest available driver.

The man living next door is far worse than I ever thought. My heart pounds like a drum, the anticipation of the car's arrival heightening my anxiety. I repeatedly cast glances over my shoulder, still haunted by the darkness I just left behind.

To my horror, I catch sight of my borderline insane neighbor's lingering silhouette, concealed within the shadows. Despite my best efforts to remain vigilant, he still managed to trail me unnoticed.

My nerves are shot as I finally spot my driver's car pulling up to the curb. I waste no time darting towards the vehicle. Climbing into the back seat, I feel a sense of relief washes over me.

When I finally arrive home, I secure the locks on my doors and windows. I turn off all the lights, plunging my house into darkness. Like a frightened child, I crawl into bed and pull the blanket up to my chin.

As I lay in my bed, my mind begins to race with all the events of the night. I replay the conversation with my guilty pleasure in my head over and over again, trying to make sense of his words.

I slowly begin to piece together the events of the night, and the only reasonable explanation is that they must have cleaned the crime scene before anybody discovered it.

I was never meant to witness anything.

But why did he let me escape?

Suddenly, I notice a sheer light emitting through the curtains. It's coming from his house. While pulling the blanket over my head in fear of having anything to do with criminals, my phone buzzes with a text message. I've received so many messages and notifications today but this one felt different.

With trepidation, I reach for my phone, keeping the blanket draped over me. I hover my finger across the illuminated screen, to read the word "Unknown". My hands shake as I find the courage to open the message.

"Did you arrive home?"

What the hell? Is it him?

I lock my phone and try to forget about the message I just received. I long to fall asleep, but my mind won't let me rest. The darkness of the night seems to amplify my fears and insecurities, and I feel myself teetering on the edge of insanity.

And I usually love the darkness. I find comfort in the night.

Suddenly, I feel a strange presence in my room, a feeling that someone or something is watching me. Finally, I summon the courage to peek out from under the covers, and my worst fears are confirmed.

Standing in the doorway is a foreboding, shadowy figure, silently observing me.

I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't scream.

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//Author// This is why I tell this story is semy-dark. Things happen and will continue to happen. Please vote and comment. //