Chapter 4: The Butcher's Gift

The memory of the mall stayed with Priya as she prepared for the day. She remembered the silence in the auto-rickshaw on the way home—the suffocating space between her and Vaani. Rekha had tried to fill the silence with chatter about exams, but the air was heavy with things unsaid.

Priya stepped out of her house, her bag heavy on her shoulder. As she descended the stairs, she collided with a solid wall of a man.

She tumbled backward, landing hard on the concrete. "Ow..."

"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't see... Priya-garu... forgive me."

She looked up. It was Katthi. He stood over her, his massive frame blotting out the morning sun. He wore his usual cold mask, but his eyes were wide with panic.

"It’s okay, Katthi-garu," Priya said, brushing the dust off her skirt. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Katthi reached out a hand to help her, then pulled it back as if he were afraid he might break her. He held out a plastic bag instead. It was heavy, and a dark pink juice pooled at the bottom.

"I brought... what you asked for," he stammered. "Mutton. One kilo. Fresh."

Priya’s eyes lit up. "Oh! You remembered! Let me get some money from Ma—"

"No!" Katthi blurted out, then lowered his voice. "No. It’s... a gift. For you."

Priya laughed, a sound that made Katthi’s heart stutter. "A gift? Are you in love with me or something, Katthi-garu?"

It was a joke—a casual, throwaway comment. But Katthi turned a deep, visible red even under the mask. He looked at his feet, his fingers twitching.

"I-I must go. Work. Goodbye," he mumbled, and bolted down the stairs with surprising speed.

Priya watched him go, smiling. "He’s so shy," she murmured to herself, unaware that Katthi had stopped three flights down, hiding in the shadows of the stairwell just to watch her walk into the house.

Priya, Katthi thought, his pulse thundering in his ears. You have no idea. You are the only light in this world.

The Shadow in the Corridor

Four Days Later...

The atmosphere at the Women’s College had shifted from academic boredom to primal terror.

The massacre had begun at sunset. Now, the corridors were a graveyard. Malini, who had come to the college to meet her sister, was trapped.

She huddled in a dark corner of the second-floor hallway, her knees pressed against her chest. The silence was the worst part—it was a heavy, expectant silence, broken only by the sound of dripping water... or blood.

Then, she heard it.

A whistle. Low, melodic, and chillingly familiar.

It was a tune from an old cartoon—the Astro Boy theme song. It was cheerful, which made it ten times more terrifying in the dark.

Step. Step. Step.

The killer was walking slowly, dragging something metallic against the floor. Screeeeee.

Malini pressed her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound of her own breathing. Her eyes were fixed on the corner where the hallway turned. A shadow stretched across the floor, long and distorted.

The whistling grew louder.

Why is he singing? Why is he happy?

She thought of Priya. She thought of her mother’s burnt curry. She thought of the shy neighbor and the angry boyfriend. Somewhere in this web of lives, a thread had snapped, and now, the predator was at the door.

The shadow stopped. The whistling ceased.

"I can hear your heart, little sister," a voice whispered.

Malini closed her eyes and prayed for the sun to rise, but the sun was gone, and the nightmare was only just beginning.