For several days now, Jasmin had felt as if eyes were watching her—on her way home, even as she entered the school gates. She felt that something inside her had changed after the incident at their camp, where she was almost kidnapped and raised above the men who tried to take her.
It's just your imagination, Jasmin. She tried to convince herself.
But something in her mind kept insisting—it wasn't her imagination. She wanted to ignore it, to pretend there wasn't someone always trailing behind when she walked alone. But the fear remained.
She was terrified but refused to show it to whoever might be watching. Deep down, though, she just wanted to lock herself away and stop going to school altogether.
I'm scared for my life now.
She didn't know how to deal with the situation or who she could turn to for guidance. Sighing deeply, she sat alone in her room, wondering what she should do next.
I need to report this. The thought repeated in her mind.
Her parents didn't even know she had gone missing during the camp. She had never told them about how close she came to danger, nor had she revealed what she discovered. Even thinking about it made her hands tremble. The fear, the trauma—it still clung to her, like a shadow.
I don't want to die. I still want to live. She repeated these words to herself whenever the fear took over.
Jasmin had become afraid of being alone in their home and terrified of walking to school without someone beside her. Since the abduction attempt, her normal life had never returned.
Her thoughts spiraled again. Should I report this to the police? Would they believe me? Would it make a difference?
She curled up under her blanket, trying to push away the anxiety and fear growing in her chest.
One afternoon, she was walking home alone. The sky was caught between dusk and darkness. She had stayed late for a group project, and the streets were quieter than usual.
She tried not to pay attention to the presence she always felt behind her. She was scared but too exhausted to look back anymore. As she approached the street leading to her house, her steps quickened, and her eyes darted around.
Still, she saw no one.
Her heart pounded. Her breath grew unsteady. The sight of her house brought her a sliver of relief.
But just as she reached for the doorknob, she heard the unmistakable click of a gun.
Her body froze.
She felt the weapon press against her temple. Panic overtook her. Her limbs wouldn't move. Her breath caught in her throat.
Suddenly—
A gunshot rang out.
She staggered. Dizzy. Disoriented.
Blood.
Her own.
Her body turned cold. The world seemed to go silent. She could no longer understand what was happening.
She looked down and saw blood spilling from her. Her vision blurred.
A single tear slid down her cheek.
She tried to see who had shot her, but her vision was fading fast. She saw a face—just a smile. Cold. Satisfied.
Then, everything went dark.
*****
"—smin… Jasmin."
Voices, distant and echoing.
Jasmin jolted awake. She saw Ellese and Felisa standing before her, eyes full of worry.
Felisa suddenly embraced her.
"How sad… You got caught in the middle of it all," Felisa said softly.
"Am I… dead?" Jasmin asked, her voice trembling.
Ellese simply nodded, sorrow filling her gaze.
"Then… why am I still here? Am I your escort?" Jasmin asked, her voice full of confusion and disbelief.
Felisa gently shook her head. "People like us—souls who die with pain in our hearts—can't easily find peace. Deep down, your mind and heart still can't accept that your life was taken in an instant," Ellese explained gently.
"What can we do? We're just one soul in the world of people who will soon forget us…" Jasmin whispered, even as something inside her soul screamed for justice. She couldn't accept that this was how her life would end.
How can I seek justice if, in the world of the living, death means defeat?
Suddenly, Ellese took her hand. The surroundings turned dark.
Then—noise. Voices. People.
"Where are we?" Jasmin asked.
Ellese pointed ahead.
Jasmin followed her gaze and heard murmuring voices. People were gathered around, talking. Police officers. Strangers.
She turned and saw her own house.
Her body moved on its own, taking slow, trembling steps toward the scene.
Her chest tightened. Her breath quickened. Though she was no longer among the living, emotions flooded her.
And there it was—her body.
Bloodied. Lifeless.
She had been shot multiple times, the bullets riddling her frame without mercy.
Jasmin stood frozen. Tears fell, invisible to the living world.
"Child!" Her father's anguished voice cried out as he arrived.
"My child! What happened?! Why… why?!"
Jasmin looked at her grieving parents, and the reality struck deeper than any bullet.
So this is what it feels like—to die unprepared. To be stolen from life without a moment to fight back. Her soul cried out in silence.
She felt someone hold her from behind.
"Let's go," Ellese said softly.
They walked again into the darkness.
Still, they had not reached where they were supposed to go.
"We're just lost souls, Jasmin," Ellese explained. "When we die with hatred and sorrow in our hearts, we walk endlessly in the dark—just like the other women you'll see around us. Just like those who were murdered and cannot rest."
Only now did Jasmin notice the others. Souls surrounded them—some ahead, some behind. All wandering. All lost.
"I won't stay like this," she said suddenly. "I want peace. I'll find a way."
"We're tired too, Jasmin," Ellese whispered. "But it's hard to find the light when forgiveness feels so far away."
Jasmin clenched her fists.
Felisa walked beside them quietly, her eyes full of sorrow.
"If you want peace," Ellese said, locking eyes with her, "then help us. Help us find the people who can help us. Convince them."
Jasmin didn't reply. She simply followed the two souls, her heart weighed down—but her spirit refusing to give up.