Part 1

Growing up, I always heard the same warning:

“Don’t go out late, it’s not safe.” Especially if you’re a girl.

I heard it from my parents, aunties, and even older girls in the neighborhood. And they weren’t joking. They said it like they knew something. They’d say:

“Being outside too late is already bad. But being a girl? It makes it worse.”

They never really explained what “worse” meant. Sometimes it sounded like crime. Other times… something else. But I listened. I stayed in. I wasn’t trying to find out what they meant.

Then I left home for university.

Everything felt different. Here, people went out late all the time. Like it was normal. Girls, guys — they’d go clubbing, partying, walking the streets at midnight like it was nothing.

Nothing bad seemed to happen.

I started to think maybe all those warnings were just fear talking. Old habits from people who grew up in different times. So when my friends invited me to celebrate after exams, a night out just to relax, I said yes.

That night still haunts me.

There were five of us: me, Rina, Amina, Jo, and Feyi. We didn’t even go far, just a lounge near campus. We danced a little, ate, took pictures, laughed. It was the first time in weeks we felt light.

We left around 2 AM. It was late. We knew. But we weren’t drunk or careless, just tired and ready to go back.

That’s when we noticed them.

At first, it didn’t seem like anything. Just three guys walking behind us. The street was mostly empty, so we could hear everything except… we didn’t hear them. No footsteps. No voices. Just… presence.

Rina glanced back and slowed her steps. “Guys,” she said quietly, “don’t panic. But I think those guys are following us.”

We brushed it off. “They’re probably just going our way.” But when we turned right… so did they.

We crossed the street. They crossed too.

Now we were panicking, even if no one said it out loud. We walked faster. Then started to jog. We turned down a shortcut alley to lose them.

That’s when we saw two more men at the other end.

They weren’t moving. Just standing. One of them had his head tilted back like he was sniffing the air.

That’s when it clicked.

This wasn’t just “guys being creepy.” This was something else.

We turned to run back, and the original three were already at the entrance of the alley. Still silent. Still watching.

Then one of them raised his hand. He had something long and shiny. It wasn’t a knife. It looked like a saw.

I’ve never screamed that loud in my life. We all did — screaming, begging, calling for help.

And then, out of nowhere:

“Hey! What’s going on there?!”

A flashlight. A voice. A man in a police uniform walked up. We ran to him, shaking, sobbing, explaining. But when we turned to point at the men…

They were gone.

Not walking away. Not hiding. Just gone.

The officer didn’t seem to believe us. Said we probably imagined it, or that maybe someone was trying to mess with us. But he gave us a ride back to campus.

He told us again:

“This is why it’s not safe to be out late.”

That should’ve been the end of it. But it wasn’t.

When I got back to my hostel, Rina stayed over in my room because we were too scared to sleep alone. We locked the door. Blocked it with a chair. I closed my curtain, but not fully—just enough to peek out.

And I swear on everything…

They were there.

Three figures. Right across the street. Standing still. Watching.

Not moving. Not saying anything. Just… watching.

I called Rina over. She saw them too. We shut the curtain, turned on the lights, and sat up till morning.

The next day, we all met up and talked. Every single one of us saw them that night. From our different rooms. Different buildings.

They were outside. Watching.

We made a silent agreement after that. No more going out late. No matter what.

Even now, if it’s getting dark and I’m walking home, I feel it. That prickly feeling in the back of my neck. Like I’m being followed.

Like I’m being watched.

I should’ve listened.

They were right.

Part 2

It wasn’t long after that night that the paranoia began. Every time I stepped outside, I felt it—the unnerving sensation of being watched. I couldn’t shake it. My heart would race when I passed dark alleyways or when the streetlights flickered. The memories of those men standing still in the alley, watching, their intentions unreadable, haunted me at night.

But no one believed us. Not even the police officer who had given us a ride back to campus. He had tried to assure us that we were probably just frightened by the late hour, that we were letting our imaginations run wild. I hated him for it. But more than that, I hated the feeling of helplessness creeping in, knowing that we had no proof, only fear.

Rina was the only one who shared my unease. We would often find ourselves checking the windows or huddling together, talking about the men who had followed us. Each of us had seen them, but none of us knew who they were or what they wanted. We couldn’t even be sure if they were connected. All we knew was that something felt terribly wrong.

One week later, it was my turn to go home for the weekend. My mother had called a few times, worried about me. She always did, especially when I didn’t answer her calls for a day or two. I was reluctant, but I agreed to visit her. The trip back home, though only an hour’s drive, was a welcome break from the tension that had built up in the past weeks.

The drive was quiet, my thoughts swirling with the images of those men standing across the street. I tried to focus on the road, but my mind kept returning to the sense of dread that lingered like a shadow. Why had they followed us? Why hadn’t they attacked or even spoken? It was all so unsettling.

When I arrived home, my mother greeted me with a tight hug, her concern evident on her face. “Sweetheart, you’ve been so quiet lately. What’s going on? You’ve been distant.”

I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to explain the fear I had been living with, but something inside me stopped me from speaking. I couldn’t make her understand. How could I? What could I even say? ‘Hey, Mom, I think I’m being watched by a group of men who disappeared into thin air?’

I plastered on a smile instead. “I’ve just been busy, Mom. College life, you know?”

She studied me closely, her brow furrowed with concern, but she didn’t press further. After dinner, we sat down to watch a movie, but I couldn’t focus. My mind kept wandering back to the events that had led me here. The moment when we had seen them—those men, those shadows—crossing our path.

Around 11 PM, my mom excused herself to go to bed. I sat up for a while longer, scrolling through my phone, trying to distract myself from the dark thoughts creeping back in. As the night wore on, I got the feeling that something was wrong. I couldn’t quite place it. There was a strange, stillness in the air, an eerie quiet that unsettled me.

That’s when I heard it—the soft tap on my bedroom window. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. My heart skipped a beat. I froze, staring at the window, not daring to move. Tap. Tap. Tap.

I stood up, slowly walking over to the window, my pulse pounding in my ears. When I parted the curtains, I didn’t see anything. Just the empty yard, lit only by the glow of the streetlights. But I knew I wasn’t imagining things. Someone had been outside my window.

With a shaky breath, I backed away from the window and sat on the bed. My phone was still in my hand, and I realized I had been holding my breath the entire time. I couldn’t explain it, but something deep in my gut told me that this wasn’t just a coincidence.

I reached for my phone, dialing Rina’s number. She picked up on the first ring.

“Rina, something’s going on,” I whispered. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I’m being watched again. I just heard something outside my window.”

Her voice was instantly alert. “What do you mean? Like, someone’s outside your house?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, my voice shaking. “But I heard it. I felt it.”

“Stay inside,” she said firmly. “Lock the door, make sure the windows are closed. Don’t go outside.”

“I’m not,” I promised, my fingers trembling as I locked the bedroom door.

“Do you think it’s the same guys from before?” she asked cautiously.

I closed my eyes. “I don’t know. It could be. I’m starting to think it wasn’t a coincidence that night. But why?”

“I’ll come over tomorrow,” Rina said. “Stay strong. Keep the lights on, don’t leave the house. I’ll be there first thing.”

“Thanks,” I said, hanging up.

I didn’t sleep that night. Every creak of the house, every gust of wind that rattled the windows, made my heart race. I lay awake, listening for any sign of movement outside. By morning, I was exhausted but more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this.

The next day, Rina arrived early, her face tense with concern. She spent the morning with me, keeping me company, and we made plans to do some research on any strange occurrences around our campus and in the area. We even started looking up the police reports and news articles for any similar incidents. And that’s when we stumbled across something strange—a pattern.

One of the articles mentioned several other cases of people going missing or being followed, all centered around our university. But there was one chilling detail: the disappearances had occurred around the same area we had been walking when we saw the men. The same street. The same alleyway.

We spent hours scrolling through old reports, piecing together bits of information. Our findings grew darker by the minute. But we still didn’t have any concrete proof. What had really happened? Where were those men, and why did they target us?

It was Rina who finally connected the dots.

“I think they’re a part of something much bigger,” she said, sitting back in her chair, her face pale. “These disappearances, these strange encounters—they’re all linked.”

I felt my stomach drop. “What do you mean? What is this?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said, biting her lip, “but I think it’s time we tell the police what we’ve found. This isn’t just a coincidence. Something’s wrong.”

“I’m scared,” I admitted quietly. “What if we’re wrong? What if I’m just overreacting?”

“We can’t be wrong,” Rina said firmly. “I’ll be with you the whole way. We’re going to figure this out together.”

That night, as we made the decision to report our findings to the police, I knew one thing for sure: I was no longer alone. And this time, I wasn’t going to sit back and wait. I would uncover the truth, no matter how dark or dangerous it became.

The next few days would be crucial. But I knew one thing above all else: the truth was out there. And I would find it.

End !