Bound By Sin

Caught.

The town had an eerie stillness about it at this hour. The clock ticked close to 11 p.m., and the streets were deserted, save for the occasional flicker of a streetlamp or the distant sound of a dog barking. Ron had been walking his usual route, heading back home after a late shift at the bar. The night air was cool, biting at his skin as he zipped up his jacket. He took the long way, cutting through the narrow alley between two rows of old townhouses. It was quieter here, away from the main road, but tonight there was something unsettling in the silence.

As he moved further into the alley, he heard something—a voice. Low, muffled at first, but distinct enough to catch his attention. He stopped in his tracks, squinting into the darkness.

"Of course, I'm gonna kill you. What did you think? That I brought you here to watch a movie and eat popcorn?"

Ron froze, his heart slamming against his ribs. The voice was male, taunting, but calm in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. He stepped back, his feet crunching slightly on the gravel, but he didn't dare move too quickly. Slowly, he pressed himself against the wall, peeking around the corner.

In the faint glow from a nearby window, he could just make out two figures—a girl, trembling, and a masked man towering over her. His face was completely obscured, and he was dressed in black, head to toe, but something caught Ron's eye. Beneath the mask, just above the collar of his jacket, a lock of golden hair shimmered faintly in the dim light.

The girl whimpered, trying to back away, but she was trapped, pressed against the wall of the alley. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes wide with fear.

"P-please," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "I won't tell anyone, I swear... just let me go."

The masked man tilted his head, as though considering her words, before a cruel laugh escaped him. "Tell anyone? Like anyone would believe you." He stepped closer, a gloved hand reaching up to grip her throat gently, almost teasingly. "You should've stayed home tonight."

Ron felt a surge of panic. He had to do something—call for help, stop this—but his legs felt like lead. He couldn't move. He could barely breathe. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The man's voice had an edge of familiarity to it, but the golden hair was the only clue he had, and even that was too vague.

"I-I didn't mean to... I..." The girl's voice was cracking, tears streaming down her face as she struggled in vain. The masked man leaned in closer, his breath visible in the cold night air.

"No more talking," the man whispered. "It's time to be quiet now."

Ron's blood turned to ice. He had to get out of here—now.

His heart hammered in his chest as he turned, moving as quietly as he could, backing away from the alley. His foot slipped on a loose rock, and for a split second, the sound echoed louder than it should have. He held his breath, but the masked man didn't seem to notice. He was too focused on his victim, too consumed by whatever twisted satisfaction he was getting from the moment.

Ron didn't wait to see what happened next. He bolted, running down the alley and away from the scene as fast as his legs could carry him. His breath came out in ragged gasps, the cold air burning his lungs as he sprinted toward the main road, his mind racing with a single thought: he needed to get help.

Whoever that man was, whatever he was doing—it wasn't going to end well for the girl. But Ron couldn't stay. Not when the masked man was just feet away, and the weight of those words—I'm gonna kill you—still hung in the air like a death sentence.

As he rounded the corner, disappearing from view, his heart pounded with fear. He hadn't seen the man's face, not fully. The golden hair was the only clue, but it wasn't enough to point to anyone specific. No one he could think of in town came to mind immediately, though a sinking feeling told him this wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

But it was the last time he'd risk his own life to stand and watch. He kept running, the adrenaline urging him forward, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the horror he had just witnessed.