Everything feels like slow motion. Each step he takes echoes in my ears, louder, heavier, like the weight of something inevitable pressing down on the room.

I’m not involved in any of their business, but his presence alone makes me feel guilty. Like I’ve seen too much. Like I shouldn’t be here.

And then there’s the gun.

It’s not rare to see them. I know people who carry, some for protection, some because it makes them feel powerful. But having one pointed directly at a person? That’s something else entirely. That’s real. That’s not just some shady back-alley deal or an empty threat thrown around in the heat of an argument. This is the kind of moment where people stop breathing. Where life either goes on or ends in a fraction of a second.

I should leave. I should move. I should say something. But I don’t.

Adam’s hand is still gripping mine, tight, sweaty, shaking. The way he’s holding on, I can tell—he knows exactly what’s about to happen.

And the man in the suit? He doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t look rushed. He just stands there, cigarette between his teeth, eyes locked on Adam like he’s already dead.

My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might burst right through my ribs. I’m not scared. Not exactly. More like… alert. Every nerve in my body telling me to run, but my mind refusing to process the command.

This isn’t my fight. But somehow, I’ve ended up right in the middle of it.

“You know the reason?” His voice cuts through the silence. No hello, no introduction. Just those three words, delivered with the disinterest of a cashier asking, “Cash or card?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Adam nods.

I know too much. And yet… I know nothing.

I never wanted to know anything.

I just wanted some safety.

And now? Now I’m here.

He shoots me a glance. Cold and empty. It’s as if I’m looking into a mirror, searching for something in the void. I know those eyes—I’ve seen them in myself. It’s like he’s at a point where nothing matters anymore, where everything just… empties out. No fear, no hatred, no emotion. Just silence that drowns everything else.

I’ve seen that look before. On my own face, in the moments where I shed everything. Eyes that have seen too much but are no longer moved by anything. Eyes that have lost themselves.

And now, as he looks at me, I feel something—something foreign to me.

“Pf, should’ve known he’d order a whore.”

He shoots. No sound. No screams.

My heart beats as if I was shot. But I feel alive.

I look aside at Adam. His hand isn’t pressing mine anymore. It falls back onto the bed. A hole in the middle of his forehead. I can’t… I feel the bile rising in my throat. Blood pours from his head.

The man stares at me now. He probably expected me to scream. I can’t. My heart is pounding like crazy, and I feel so sick.

“It’s not my job to kill you, so you’d better stay quiet.”

Just as uninterested as before. Like a cashier putting the payment in the register once the customer’s paid. He places the gun back inside his coat.

I slowly rise and walk toward the bathroom to vomit. There’s too much happening. A creep texting me, a client part of the underworld, and then him getting shot right in front of me? It’s like back then, when all the stress caught up with me at once. When I was sent to a new foster family every day, just to find more people who didn’t love me.

When I get to the sink, I look in the mirror and see bloodstains, still from Adam, drying on my cheek. I don’t even understand how I’m supposed to feel.

“Hey, woman, you’re coming with me.”

I hear it from the room next door. Does he really think I’m a whore?

I don’t answer. My mouth is open, but no words come out.

I stand there for a few seconds in front of the mirror, my body trembling, just staring at myself. Adam doesn’t matter to me, but where do I go from here? I don’t belong anywhere. Lost in thought, he walks into the bathroom.

“Hey, are you even listening?” he asks. His tone so indifferent, like it’s a rhetorical question. I see him in the mirror, but I don’t dare turn around. Does he want to erase me as a witness now?