I FELL FOR THE MASKED KILLER

“Freya, you’re gonna miss the bus again.” Lana’s voice jolts me up from my not-so- peaceful slumber. I groan, dragging the pillow over my face.. “Ugh! Give me a break. Just five more minutes.” She yanks the duvet off me in one aggressive swoop. “I spent the whole of last night shaking my ass on a pole and yet I still mustered up the strength to get up for my day shift. What’s your excuse?” Damn it. She’s right. I groan as I sluggishly wake up, stretching my arms wide enough to cover the house. Lana is my roommate. I met her on my first night here in the bar where she strips while I was wasting my life away shot by shot. She dragged me home before I could pass out on the counter and I’ve basically become her pet since then. I shower hurriedly and perch in front of the mirror, smearing makeup on my weary face. The girl staring back at me is different. She has thick dark her framing her jaw. New name. New city. New life. Gone was Sansa - I killed her. Now Freya, only Frey Whitmore. I swipe on some blush for finishing touches and tie my hair into a bun. The bun is neat, controlled - everything Sansa wasn’t. Lana leans on the doorframe. She’s in her waitress attire. Stripper by night, waitress by day, all to make sure the bills are paid. She really is one of the toughest people I’ve ever come across and maybe the only one I can't trust now. “You look like someone’s about to call a board meeting at night and a funeral by 10. Rough night?” I force a smile. “Every night’s rough.” “You and that job.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s high time you quit, babes. Write, paint, do whatever. You’re too smart to rot in that cubicle.” I shove my laptop into my tote bag. “I gotta make ends meet to support the bills, you know. The pay keeps the lights on and keeps me off the radar.” Lana snorts. “What radar do you keep ranting about? No one’s hunting you down, Freya.” If only she knew. She tips her mug toward the kitchen table. “By the way, I helped you get your mail.” I cross the tiny kitchen to the table. There I could see a pile of junk mail. I skim through them hastily hoping to see the one mail I’ve been praying for - a job acceptance letter from the largest firm in town. I was midway through skimming when I spotted a tabloid from this week. “THE RAVEN STRIKES AGAIN - ANOTHER CORRUPT COUNCILMAN FOUND DEAD.” The bold headline is smeared across the front of the local newspaper. “Ugh what a hero!” I roll my eyes angrily. The whole city is obsessed with this anonymous masked killer whom they nicknamed “The Raven.” He is a supposed “saviour” who goes after the rich and powerful taking out men the justice system conveniently forgets to punish. Some call him a hero, a dark angel, a necessary evil. But he’s none of those things. Instead, he's a coward with a gun, hiding behind a mask while he decides who gets to live and who doesn't. And one night, he decided my father didn’t deserve to live. Since that night, my life has been in pieces. And every time I hear someone call him a hero, it’s like they’re twisting the shards deeper, just to see if I’ll bleed. I made an inner vow to track him down and ruin his life just like he didn’t mine. I toss the tabloid in the trash angrily and continued skimming. And then I see it - a single white envelope just at the bottom as if it’s been waiting for me. No address. No stamp - weird. A chill runs down my spine,. I tear it open with trembling fingers. Inside is a single note with six words that sends me spiraling. “The dark hair suits you, Sansa.” My blood turns cold and I grip the edge of the table to keep from tumbling down. Nobody calls me that. Nobody knows that name. Nobody except…..Him. Liam, my psychotic ex. He found me! But how? I clench my fist as anxiety courses through my veins. I thought I could run away from everything, I thought I left everything behind including my old self but somehow it’s come back to haunt me through him. I whip my head around, scanning the room. Nothing - just Lana. But I feel him watching, waiting. His presence looms over me even in his absence and it drives me mad. Breathe, Freya, breathe. I shove the note into my bag before going to shut my door. I cross-checked it three times then I left for work. ————————————————- The bus ride to work place was slow and agonizing, my mind kept replaying the moment I saw that letter on a loop. For five months, I convinced myself Sansa never existed. That polished, obedient girl with the silver spoon and a gilded cage. The one who smiled through clenched teeth while everyone picked apart her life. I buried her under a new name, a new city, and dyed hair. I erased the mansion, the lies, the uncle who turned grief into greed. I even tried to erase Liam,the man who preyed on what was left of me after they were done. It all worked… until I saw those six words scribbled on that paper. I was so lost in my thoughts that I missed my stop completely. By the time I circled back and rushed into the office, I was already thirty minutes late and soaked in sweat. Sarah, my jealous subordinate, shoots me a nasty glance. “Nice of you to join us, Freya, I was starting to think you finally quit.” I forced a tight-lipped smile as I took my seat right beside her. “Nah, I like the pay too much. If I save enough, I could finally pay losers like you to shut up.” She scoffed but didn't reply. I win. Today was not the day to test me. The day drags. Endless calls, setting up meetings, my supervisor stepping on my toes one too many times and my mind still in shock from earlier events. Ten agonizing hours later, I was done. I wanted nothing more than to soak myself in a bubble bath and forget about everything so I took the shortcut home - a narrow alley with battered walls and dumpsters that smells like vomit. Half through, I hear footsteps. Not mine. Multiple. My heart rate quickens and I pick up the pace. I can hear them closely now right behind me. I turn. Three men block the exit behind me. All three were tall and buff, resembling MMA fighters. “Hey sunshine.” One of them grins darkly. “No, thanks.” I snap, backing up. I spun around to bolt but another one was already behind me. I didn’t even hear him come up. He grabs me fiercely by the arm. “Get off me asshole!” I yell at the top of my lungs, swinging my bag at him. It hits his shoulder. He grunts and then punches me in my gut, hard. Pain folds me in half. I gasp. Fight back. Scratch. Kick. My knee slams into someone’s thigh and they curse. But it’s three against one. I’m slammed against the wall. Hands claw at my coat. My screams die in the empty alley. “Shouldn’t have walked alone, sweetheart,” one of them whispers. And then I hear a clicking sound. A gun. I freeze. One of them pulls it out in one swift move. He steps forward and jams it into my cheek. “I’m going to kill you, give me everything to own or I’ll pull the trigger.” he says, almost casually. Fear grips me but I couldn’t let them see me ruffled. It might be a bluff. I spit blood and shake my head. “You won’t.” He raises a brow. “You’re a coward with a toy,” I snapped. “You don’t have the balls.” Wrong move. His finger tenses on the trigger. And I hear a loud bang. My ears ring. The world flashes white. For a second, everything stops. Time hangs in mid-air. I feel the heat from the gun. I smell smoke. My knees buckle. This is it. This is how I die.