~IAN~

If exhaustion had a face, it would be mine.

Evening had settled like a heavy cloak over Barry’s Bakery House, and I was still at my station, hands buried deep in soft dough, rolling out yet another batch of doughnut rings on the chilled counter. The hum of the ovens, the scent of yeast and sugar - it should have been comforting after a long day. But all I could think about was my aching back and how desperately I needed my bed.

“Just a few more minutes,” I whispered to no one, knuckles pressing into the dough. “Then I’m free.”

My body ached with the kind of weariness that seeps into the bones - raw, quiet, merciless. Even the simple act of stretching the dough felt like lifting a boulder.

Sleep. Food. Silence. That was all I craved.

Then the door slammed open.

Samantha stormed into the room like a firecracker in heels. “Everyone stop working. Now. Mr. Barry’s downstairs. He wants to see everyone immediately.”

No greeting. No explanation. Just that clipped tone she always used - like we were ants under her shoe.

She turned to leave, but not before her eyes slid over me. Cold. Calculating. Like she knew something I didn’t.

A strange chill crept down my spine. My hands paused mid-knead.

Why did she look at me like that?

The rest of the bakers grumbled as they untied aprons and pushed away from the counters. I heard a few curse under their breath. No one liked being ordered around by Samantha - especially when we were so close to clocking out.

I followed them, tension knotting in my stomach. As I passed Brenda’s station, she lifted her head, brushing flour from her hands. Her gaze met mine - steady, smug. A faint, almost serpentine smile curved her lips.

Something about it sent a ripple through my chest.

No. That wasn’t just smugness. That was satisfaction.

"What the hell are you so satisfied about, Brenda?" I thought.

I tried to shake it off. Focus. She’s not worth it. Just go down there, listen to whatever Barry has to say, and get out.

But a thought clawed its way to the surface - the video. I just couldn't stop thinking about it.

Suddenly, the pieces didn’t feel so far apart. The video. Brenda. Her smile. Samantha’s look. The heaviness in the air.

Something was wrong.

I quickly washed the flour from my arms, untied my apron, and hung it neatly on the hook. The room emptied around me. Silence returned, but not the peace I wanted.

By the time I reached the front hall, everyone had gathered.

And there he was - Mr. Barry. Our boss. His normally polished face was dark with fury, pacing the tiled floor like a man ready to explode. Each slap of his fist into his open palm cracked through the tension like a whip.

The unease in my gut twisted tighter.

“What’s going on?” I muttered.

And then...

“WHERE IS IAN?!”

His voice boomed like a thunderclap.

I froze.

All eyes turned. My name had dropped like a guillotine in the middle of the room.

Why me?

“I SAID, WHERE IS IAN?!”

The rage in his voice peeled my skin.

With stiff legs and a throat tightening by the second, I stepped forward. “I’m here, sir…”

His eyes locked onto me. Like a hunter who’d finally found his prey.

“WHERE IS MY MONEY?!”

I blinked. “What…?”

“What money?” I asked, genuinely lost. My brows furrowed as my heart started to pound.

“Don’t you play dumb with me!” he barked. “Where is the hundred fucking thousand dollars you stole from me?!”

Time stopped.

The words didn’t make sense. I felt my mouth fall open, but no sound came out.

“I-I didn’t steal anything…” My voice was barely audible.

His finger stabbed the air at me. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to? You think I wouldn't find out?”

A strange ringing started in my ears. A hundred thousand? Me?

Everyone was staring. Judging. Silent.

“The police are on their way,” Mr. Barry hissed. “Let’s see if you keep this little innocent act up when they cuff you.”

The blood drained from my face.

“No, please, boss - there’s been a mistake!” I dropped to my knees, hands clasped. “I swear, I haven’t done anything! Please! I have never for once touched what is not mine.”

"Oh, my fucking God," he said under his breath, his anger simmering dangerously. "You're still lying?!!"

I didn't know why he was insisting I stole his money. But I couldn't say yes. I couldn't agree to something I didn't do, because I didn't take it.

"Please sir, you've got to listen to me. I'm innocent. I have never taken what's not mine before. I didn't steal your money. Please." I kept begging.

"Shit!!" He cursed loudly and turned back, swiping a palm across his hair.

Then he faced me, his face now red from excess shouting, firing daggers into me with his blazing eyes.

"I give you ten seconds to provide that money or I swear to God, I'm going to destroy you, Ian. I'll cut you in half before the cops arrive."

I opened my mouth to still plead. "Sir, ple-"

But he cut me off angrily.

"I SAID WHERE IS MY MONEY?!!" He bellowed.

The deep accusation fired another round of bullets in my chest and a whimper escaped my throat. The tears rolled out. Fast. Hot. Unstoppable.

I have been accused before in the orphanage where I was raised, after life snatched my parents from me in a fatal accident. The insults that came after it, the beatings, I withstood them all. But this? This was worse than beatings and insults? This was heart-wrenching. The certainty in his voice was breaking me.

I tried to talk again, but nothing came out. Just my tears.

“Come out, Brenda!” he shouted.

And that was when my world truly began to crumble.

Brenda stepped into the circle, eyes wide with theatrical concern. Her face was the perfect mask of a victim delivering bad news. But that smirk was still there - just faint enough to make you question if you imagined it.

“I saw him during break,” she said. “He was on the phone, whispering, looking around like he didn’t want to be seen. I overheard him talking about ‘dollars’… and… and fleeing the country. I just thought, you know, it didn’t seem right. So I told Mr. Barry. I couldn’t keep quiet.”

She turned to the others, clutching her chest like some fucking martyr.

“Ian is the thief. He stole the money.”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even breathe.

She framed me.

And I had no idea why.

But the worst part wasn’t the lie.

It was realizing that, in this moment, everyone believed her.

And the sirens outside were getting closer.

~IAN~

The crowd closed in, their faces warping with judgment, disgust sharp in their eyes. A thousand whispers slithered through the air, each one cutting deeper than the last.

“I knew it! He’s been acting shady all day.”

“A poor, hungry, desperate thief.”

“Thief!”

The word echoed like a curse, bouncing off the walls and drilling into my chest.

Mr. Barry’s polished shoes clicked across the floor like a slow, merciless countdown. With each step, my heart thundered louder, like it might crack my ribs open. My palms were slick with sweat, knees trembling as I tried to steady my breath.

Suddenly, I remembered the video, Brenda, her guilty glances... everything.

Then it clicked.

Wait!

Everything makes sense now.

Brenda...

She was the one! She was the one who-

Mr. Barry was still talking, threatening.

“After today,” he sneered, pacing in front of me like a predator, “you’ll understand why people call me a no-nonsense man. When the police are through with you, you’ll-”

His voice faded beneath the storm building inside me.

No. Not anymore. Enough is enough!

I wiped my dewy eyes and rose to my feet, slow and deliberate, eyes zeroing in on the true serpent in the room - Brenda. Her smug expression trembled, just slightly. She wasn’t expecting me to stand.

But I wasn’t going to cower anymore.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Brenda,” I said, voice low and steady, the words slicing through the chaos like a blade. “Stealing from the boss and framing me? Classic move for a chameleon like you. You always did play the victim so well.”

Her eyes widened for the briefest second before narrowing into slits. “What are you talking about, Ian?” she hissed, trying to mask the tremor in her voice.

But I saw it. Everyone did.

I took a step forward, the crowd parting instinctively. “I’ve kept quiet. Endured your jabs, your gossip, your little power trips. But this? This crosses the line. And guess what? I’ve got the receipts.”

A crack appeared in her composure.

Her fake smile faltered. Her hands twitched.

“Nonsense,” she laughed, shrill and unconvincing.

She spun to face the others, her voice rising. “Don't listen to him! He's trying to turn the tables. He's playing tricks. He’s just trying to save himself! Hahaha!”

But her laugh - too sharp, too forced - sounded like balloons popping under pressure. Nobody was laughing with her.

I reached into my back pocket, my fingers brushing the worn edges of my phone. “Not so fast,” I muttered, unlocking the screen and scrolling to the saved file. “Let’s roll the tape.”

I tapped play. The video began to echo throughout the room.

It didn’t show her taking the money.

But it showed her inside the boss’s office, crouched by his desk, her hands fumbling to close a leather bag. A bundle of cash slipped out and hit the floor.

She froze, glancing around like a thief in the dark, then snatched the bundle and stuffed it back into the bag before zipping it shut.

That was it.

But it was enough.

Gasps filled the room like a tidal wave.

Before the video could finish, Brenda shrieked.

“Give me that, you bastard!”

She lunged at me, hands clawing for my phone, her nails grazing my wrist.

I spun away and lifted the phone above my head. “Back off!” I growled, using my shoulder to block her. She tripped and landed hard on her ass, the air knocked from her lungs in a graceless thud.

She scrambled up and charged again, but this time, a thunderous voice cracked through the room.

“STAY WHERE YOU ARE, BRENDA!”

Mr. Barry’s voice.

She froze mid-step, as if struck.

“I-i-i... boss, I can explain-”

“Not another word!” he barked.

He turned to me, his voice like ice. “Ian. Let me see that video.”

I handed it over.

The footage played to the end.

Silence.

Then Mr. Barry’s gaze snapped toward Brenda like a whip, eyes blazing with betrayal.

“You sneaky little devil,” he spat. “You stole my money? You fucking stole my money, huh? And you were the one who came to report to me that Ian did. You're evil! Accepting you into this bakery was a huge mistake."

“Please sir, I-i didn’t mean to,” she stammered, tears springing to her eyes. "It was the devil! H-he made me-”

“Oh, shut up,” I muttered, too low for most to hear.

But Mr. Barry did.

“SHUT UP, YOU BLOODY LIAR!”

The sound of his hand slapping her cheek cracked through the room like a gunshot.

Brenda stumbled, clutching her face, her act disintegrating. No one moved to help her.

Mr. Barry’s hands shook as he wiped his mouth, glaring at her like she was filth under his shoe. “You’ll regret ever crossing me,” he snarled.

But I didn’t feel vindicated. Not yet.

Because while she stood there trembling, and the others whispered in shocked tones, I could still feel the sting of every accusing glance from earlier.

Still taste the fear in the back of my throat.

Still wonder what kind of world lets someone like her nearly destroy someone like me.

Memories of her atrocities flooded my mind. All of them!

My teeth clenched, my chest tightened, and my blood roared.

And suddenly, I didn’t want to walk away.

Not this time.

I crossed the room in three strides, the weight of a hundred humiliations burning under my skin. Brenda flinched as I got closer, but didn’t move fast enough.

CRACK!

My palm collided with her cheek, sharp and final. Her head snapped sideways, and a collective gasp followed.

She staggered back, clutching her face, eyes wide with shock.

I leaned in, my voice low, savage, and clear.

“That’s for every lie, every look, every time you made me feel small. Burn in your own venom, bitch!”

Then I turned and walked out, marching to my station, the silence behind me louder than any applause.

~IAN~

I was walking down the alley. Night had already claimed the sky, and the atmosphere was mercilessly cold and windy.

Tucking my hands deeper into the pockets of my woolly sweater, I exhaled. Smoke puffed out from my lips and dissolved into the air like ghosts fleeing the living. My ears stung from the biting chill, but that wasn’t what made me grit my teeth.

It was her.

“Sly bastard,” I muttered, heat bubbling beneath my skin despite the cold. Rage pumped through my veins like molten lead.

When she flashed that smirk inside the bakery’s mixing room, I knew something was off. Brenda always smirked before launching her venom. And this time? She went nuclear - accusing me of stealing a hundred thousand dollars. Me! A man who’s never taken so much as a donut without paying for it.

That girl… she wasn’t just toxic. She was a principality. A dark force sent to make my life hell.

She sabotaged equipment and blamed it on me. Spread rumors like wild disease. Two months ago, she whispered the lie that I had AIDS. I saw the way the other workers recoiled from me like I was a plague. Some even went to Mr. Barry, whispering behind closed doors, trying to get me fired.

They nearly succeeded.

But I fought back. I shoved a clean test result in their faces, and just like that, the whispers died. I stayed. But the damage never really left me.

“Stupid bitch!” I snapped, not caring if the wind carried my voice to some startled pedestrian.

When the truth finally surfaced, she tried to flee. But karma caught her red-handed. The police showed up just in time. We discovered the money stashed in a trash bag, hidden in the ceiling of the women’s restroom.

She got dragged away in cuffs.

Good riddance.

After the chaos, Mr. Barry begged for my forgiveness. Apologized until his face turned red. But my answer was final.

“It’s over. I’m resigning,” I told him. “I won’t keep working in a place where I have no peace.”

And just like that, I quit.

I should’ve felt empty, but what I felt was freedom.

I lifted my eyes to the dark sky, the stars blinking down like little gods watching from afar. “Good riddance to rubbish,” I muttered.

No more Brenda. No more Barry. No more pretending I was okay.

Then my stomach growled - long, loud, and furious.

“Ughh.” I groaned, pulling out my phone with stiff fingers. My thumb hovered over my banking app before opening it. My eyes locked on the screen.

$50.00.

That was all I had left.

My jaw tightened. No salary yet. No backup plan. Just this little whisper of cash between me and starvation.

“I’m not crawling back to beg,” I hissed. Not even if Mr. Barry offered to double my pay.

Still, I had to eat. A hungry man can’t chase dreams. A dead man definitely can’t.

Tomorrow I’ll start job hunting. But tonight, I needed to silence the claws of hunger gnawing at my insides.

I turned onto a narrow, dimly lit path, heading for the only place still open - Bernie’s Palace Chops.

That’s when my phone buzzed.

I paused, confused. I hadn’t called anyone. No one ever texted me this late.

It was an AirDrop.

From an “Unknown Sender.”

My thumb hovered, then tapped ‘Accept’.

A video.

My brows furrowed as I hit play.

The screen lit up and my blood ran cold.

It was a man. Tied to a chair. Gagged. He was screaming through the cloth.

The camera shook, but the images were clear enough - blades flashing, fists pounding. Blood splashing. The sickening crack of bone echoed. They were killing him. Slowly. Deliberately.

I yanked the phone away from my face like it burned.

“What the fuck,” I whispered.

Terror surged through me. My hands trembled as I stuffed the phone back into my pocket, heart pounding like a war drum.

Who sent this to me? And why?

Or was it a mistake?

I tried to breathe. Shrugged it off. Told myself it was fake. Just some twisted internet sicko trying to scare people.

But then I heard something - a rustle.

My heart skipped.

I turned.

Two cats. In the shadows. Mating.

“Fuck,” I exhaled, relief washing over me. “Mummy and daddy games again…”

I chuckled nervously, shook my head. This street wasn’t popular at night. That’s why I liked it. It was quiet. Peaceful. Solitary.

The main street? Too crowded. Too loud. Too full of… people.

But ten feet later, I heard another sound. This one - sharper.

I clenched my jaw. Kept walking. “Probably another cat sex-tival,” I muttered, trying to sound unfazed.

But I was wrong. I was fucking wrong.

What I saw, stole the breath out of my lungs.

Another shadow...

Not mine.

A grotesque shape loomed behind mine, tall and massive, holding something… something blunt.

I didn’t even have time to turn or scream.

A hand grabbed my collar and slammed me against the wall.

CRACK!

Pain exploded in my back. My vision whited out.

“AAARGH!” I howled as I crumpled to the cold, damp pavement.

My body screamed with agony.

A figure stepped forward - dragging a bat that scraped against the concrete like the whisper of death.

I tried to scream again. Nothing came out but hoarse gasps.

“P-pl-ea-se… Pl-eas-se d-on-t k-ill me…” I begged, blood running from my scalp down my face like a red waterfall.

The figure didn’t speak. Just stood there, silent. Like death personified.

And then…

I heard heels. Clicking against the concrete like a ticking bomb, each steps a countdown to something horrific.

Next was a voice.

“Just where I wanted you to be."

I froze.

No. No way.

A shadow walked over to me.

Perfume I knew too well filled my lungs.

I blinked through the pain, my vision swimming.

The street lamp flickered above us like it too wanted to blink and look away.

It was her. It was really her.

Alive. Free. Smiling.

“B-br-brend-da?” I choked out her name, jaw trembling.

How? How the fuck was she here? I saw the cops take her away. I watched her get hauled into that van.

She crouched, her face too close, a smile carved with cruelty.

“Well, well, well,” she whispered, voice as sweet as cyanide. “Still think that slap made you a man?”

I tried to speak, but my throat had suddenly forgotten how to form words.

She ran a finger down my cheek, slow. Mocking. "You got the video I sent to you, huh?"

My eyes bulged.

So she was the one who sent that video to me?

"Darling, what you saw happen to that man in that video, will become your lot soon enough. Or maybe something even worse.”

My chest tightened with panic.

“I warned you, Ian. Didn't I? You should have stayed in your place.”

She leaned closer, her lips brushing my ear.

“But don’t worry… you’ll never make that mistake again.”

She locked eyes with the cloaked man. A silent exchange. A shared understanding.

Then her voice rang out like a gavel of doom.

“Take him.”

Everything happened in a blur.

The cloaked man moved.

I opened my mouth to scream.

The bat swung through the air with deadly grace.

And then-

WHAM!

It struck my head.

Darkness slammed into me like a falling building. My heartbeat slowed. My vision blurred. Numbness seeped into my limbs like venom.

My brain began shutting down.

And the last thing I felt…

Was oblivion.