Cici pulled her coat tighter around her as the wind cut through the empty streets. It was late—too late to be out walking alone—but tonight, there was no other choice. The city she once knew had taken on an ominous air; familiar streets now saw shadows stretch like predators, growing longer with every dim flicker of the streetlights. The hum of distant traffic mingled with the hollow sound of her boots against the pavement, each echo a reminder of just how alone she truly was. Or… was she?

Her pace quickened, almost imperceptibly at first, in sync with the racing of her mind. *Don’t be ridiculous,* she thought. *There’s nothing out here. Nothing to be afraid of.* But the nagging edge of a memory surfaced—a night not so different from this one, when her instincts had saved her. She could still feel the tightness in her chest, the weight of the stranger’s gaze, and the exhilaration of running faster than she ever thought possible. Since then, she had lived with heightened senses: every noise, every movement now carried meaning. Paranoia, or preparation? It didn’t matter. She listened.

A sharp *clink* echoed somewhere to her left. She froze. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted around, scanning the darkness for shapes that didn’t belong. The city was a labyrinth, and tonight, she was its prey. She forced herself to move, slower this time, her fingers brushing against the weighty reassurance of her phone in her pocket. If something happened, she could call for help. Right? But in a city that seemed to devour humanity one street at a time, she wasn’t so sure anyone would come.

Turning a corner, she spotted a familiar face—a man she’d seen before on this route. His presence eased her nerves, if only for a moment. He was a fixture of the neighbourhood, just another part of the constantly shifting puzzle of urban life. But tonight, something was different. His haggard look mirrored her own unease. He nodded cautiously, and she faltered before returning the gesture. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who felt it: the city swallowing itself, pushing its inhabitants to the brink.

Further down the block, another figure emerged—a woman, younger than Cici but carrying the same tension in her posture. And then another: a middle-aged couple, whispering in clipped tones. None of them walked together, but they were drawn into each other’s orbit, a silent fraternity of survivors. When their paths crossed under a flickering streetlamp, the woman offered a small, anxious smile. “Nights like these,” she murmured, “you make sure the whole world knows where you are.” She held up her phone, its screen glowing like a beacon.

They lingered, sharing advice in hushed voices: the best apps for alerting loved ones, the cameras to place by your window, the personal alarms small enough to fit on a keychain. Cici listened more than she spoke. Technology could be a shield, yes, but what if it also made you a target? The man with hollowed eyes reminded them of that: “Stay off social media,” he growled. “If you know they’re watching you, don’t let them see how.”

Hours felt like minutes as the group disbanded, each retreating to their own sanctuaries—or at least, to the illusion of them. Cici hurried the last blocks home, her safe haven calling louder than ever. The underground room was where she would hide—a fortified space where her fear could be contained. She bolted the door behind her, exhaling as she leaned against the metal frame. Yet the sense of security was fleeting.

No more echoes, no more shadows. Just her and the pulsating silence of reinforced walls. But something still wasn’t right. The darkness pressed in, making the room feel smaller by the second. And then: a sound. Not in the room itself, but nearby. A scraping, maybe even a whisper. Real… or imagined?

Her hand hovered over the alarm she had