Fear

1

It was a breezy Friday night in late October, around 8pm. The sky was dark and cloudy, and the fumes of alcohol wafted through the backstreets of the city, carried by the wind, as party-goers prepared for a long night of drinking in the clubs.

My best friend, Isabel, had been begging me for weeks to go to the club with her, as I'd just turned 21. "Just one night, I promise, you'll love it!"

I was never one for parties and socialising. I'd told her "No" for three consecutive weeks, but I felt bad for letting her down, so finally I said,
"Fine. One night! But the drinks are all on you."

She picked me up from home at 5 and we drove back to her place because she insisted on giving me a "makeover."

I emerged from the front door two hours later feeling like a weird Barbie doll. I wore a tight black off-the-shoulder dress, a pair of black diamond-encrusted heels, and a little black and white purse.

I honestly wasn't keen on the look myself. I'd always been the 'hoodie and jeans' type of girl with a messy bun and bare face, but I saw how Isabel's face lit up when I came out of her bedroom. At least I made her happy.

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"I promise, Em. You're gonna have the time of your life!"

I glanced over at her with a side-eye, slightly annoyed. I knew she'd said something, but we'd only just walked through the club's entrance and the music was already overwhelmingly loud.

The sickening stench of alcohol was suffocating, and sweaty bodies crammed the dance floor. I must've shown my disapproval on my face because she rolled her eyes at my sour attitude.

"This is why I don't go out," I moaned, going to shove my hands into pockets that I then remembered weren't there. I felt so awkward.

She grinned at me and shouted at the bartender for two Blue Kamikazes as we took seats at the bar.

I recall gazing around the club as we waited for our drinks. It didn't take me long to single out the loners. I should know, I'm also an introvert.

But as I was gazing around at everyone, that was when my eyes landed on someone in the back corner. It was dark, save for the colourful neon lights that momentarily flickered bright enough for me to make out details of his face. It was pretty hard to say what he looked like through the throngs of people dancing between us.

He was a silhouette, standing apart from the crowd and smoking a cigarette. I observed him as a pale string of smoke ascended from his thin lips. Through the crowds, he caught my gaze, which startled me a bit, and he turned his head to glare back at me. I admit I was intimidated, but it allowed me a better angle to look at his face.

By the looks of it, he had dark hair, a light stubbly beard, and was wearing what appeared to be a suit. 'Maybe he's a bouncer,' I thought to myself. I hummed slightly and glanced at someone else on the dance floor.

I'd always been a people-watcher. I guess sometimes it felt better than knowing I was on my own, helped the lonliness I felt as a kid. Of course, I was with Isabel now and I'd kind of grown out of the habit for the most part. But in environments like this, I seemed to revert back to it.

I sighed and watched a tall woman laugh heartily with her friends, her red hair lit up by the neon spotlights above as she waved her arms about wildly. After a moment staring at her, my eyes wandered to the back wall again.

That man was still there. I watched him, and noticed he seemed to be on his phone with someone. At first glance, he didn't look all that out of place, but the more I stared, the more I realised something.