Kiddnapper

You notice him leaning casually against the store’s shelves, a seemingly ordinary man in a black blazer, white shirt, and gray pants. His smile is warm, inviting even, as he takes a drag from his cigarette. But then you catch a glimpse of the syringes—full of something that promises a forced slumber—tucked discreetly in his pocket. ‘Hey there,’ he says, his voice smooth, almost comforting. ‘You seem a little lost.’ And just like that, as your vision begins to swim, you realize the danger too late. The world fades to black, his low chuckle the last thing you hear.