Caged Temptress | 18+

| 1 |

witness (noun): a person who sees an event, typically a crime or accident, take place

EVA PETROV

Sitting on the metal chair in the bright interrogation room, the only thing I feel is the cold sinking into my skin. My fingers trace over the newly formed cracks on my phone screen as I wait to give my statement.

The thin material of my black mini dress does very little to help the goosebumps covering my entire body.

For the first time in my life, I miss the sweaty heat of the club and the warmth of alcohol in my system. The adrenaline rushing through me has eaten up any of traces of tequila.

I study my reflection in the glass across from me to see my dark brown hair slightly frizzy and my makeup a little smudged from panic attack I had on the way over. I run the tips my nails over the smudged eyeliner, fixing the edge of the wing.

I have no clue how fixing my makeup was going to help my mental state right now.

Footsteps pad on the other side of the door and I jerk my head in the direction.

A police officer steps in with a steaming cup of coffee and offers me his jacket. I gladly take the latter turning down the former. He places the thick policemen's jacket over my trembling shoulders and tells me it will take a little while longer.

It's currently about 2:30am, which probably isn't the best time to rush into a police station, but after witnessing a murder there was no where else I could go.

The scene keeps replaying itself over every time I shut my eyes.

My phone starts buzzing and I look down at the screen to see its my Uber driver.

Finally, thank god!

I yell at Clara, who is dancing with a hot stranger, that I'm heading home. She immediately whips her head over and yells back at me to text her when I get home safe. I give her a quick sweaty hug and push through the dance floor towards the exit. As I reach the door, I answer the call.

The driver tells me he is a few blocks away to avoid the traffic. I look at the location he sends me and see its just an eight minute walk from the club. Give or take.

I sigh as I hang up the call and start speed walking in that direction.

In my head, I go over all the stuff I have to do tomorrow to prepare for the rest of the week. I have several case studies to look over. It'll be slightly more difficult with the hangover that is sure to haunt me in the morning, but it's doable.

People rush around me on the street pushing me in every direction, proving the club's popularity.

The new club opening was obviously going to be packed, but I was friends with the manager in undergrad so Clara and I attended.

I opt on cutting through a few alleys that I know will get me there without the extra foot traffic. My headed clouded with stuff I need to get done before my classes on Monday until a muffled scream breaks me out of my thoughts.

For some reason the rest of the world falls away, when I see two dark figures illuminated only by a dull street light. One of them is pushed into the brick wall of the building behind him and the other is holding him there.

Slightly curious, I take a silent step closer to the two. I keep a good distance away and stay in the shadows, out of their line of sight.

The man whose much bigger delivers another punch to the one against the wall. He lets out a pained groan and holds his hands up in surrender. The taller one takes a step back allowing me to let out a quiet sigh of relief.