Jamais vu

3

"I got it, I'll do everything," the guy in all black spoke on the phone. The order has been received, which means he is obliged to carry it out. It was lucky that he was just on the street.

About two minutes later, a message arrived on his phone with an address and a detailed description of the person he was supposed to take care of. This was not his first case, but still something made him worry. It's not that he killed these people or inflicted critical injuries on them, after which people became disabled, but that didn't make it any easier. Perhaps the guy was simply afraid to admit to himself that he felt sorry for his victims and that, in principle, he was not like that. But until he does, he will continue to do his job.

The guy quickly reached the indicated place. The lights were on in the apartment, although it was already midnight. The curtains were drawn, but the shadows gave an idea of what was going on there now. The silhouette of a man was actively gesticulating, waving his arms, as if striking the smaller silhouette. It was a woman. She got up and fell again from blows and pushes. The windows were closed and nothing could be heard, but the guy understood perfectly well what they were talking about.

It's always the same. The man is most likely drunk. This woman is either his wife or daughter. This man has trust issues and always feels like a woman is deceiving him. He yells at her, insults her, says words that hurt much more than beatings. And the woman suffers. But no matter how much she suffers, she will still return to him. It's like there's a written script for such cases.

Pulling the mask over his face and adjusting his cap, the guy went up to the desired floor and knocked. Now he could hear everything that was happening on the other side of the door. Screaming, hitting, breaking dishes, crying. Nobody opened it for him. He knocked again. Stronger this time. There was silence in the apartment and a few seconds later the door opened.

"What are you doing here? Who are you anyway?" there was a man in front of him. Drunk, dirty, with a belly from alcohol and drops of blood on his white T-shirt. His face was overgrown and crooked. He looked like a homeless person - the description they sent him.

"They asked me to take care of you," the guy said and at the same second struck.

One blow was enough to make the man fall unconscious. The guy quickly checked his pulse just in case, although he already knew that he didn't kill him. He then walked deeper into the apartment. The woman sat in the corner behind the sofa, covering her head with trembling hands.

"The police will be here soon. They'll take this scumbag. Write a statement against him and stop the beating," the guy said. His voice was quiet and somewhat soothing. "You will be safe if you do this."

"Wh... Who are you?" the woman whispered, trying to see the face under the mask.

"Nobody," the guy answered her and, hearing the sound of the siren, left. His job is done. The only thing left to hope for is a woman.

~~~~~~

In the morning, Eunchae woke up to a call from her mother. She couldn't sleep all night because of her worries and only slept for an hour and a half. Holding the phone in her hands, Eunchae was afraid. She was afraid that she wouldn't hear her mother's voice at the other end of the line. She was afraid that when she answer the call, she would hear her father's voice, and somewhere in the background, quiet sobs. But the worst thing was that it could be not her father who was calling her. Someone will tell her about her mother's death. Something terrible happened to her. Her mother died and she didn't do anything.

"I'll answer," said Kazuha, who woke up.

She picked up the phone but didn't say anything, waiting for the caller to start the conversation first.