Midnight rides: the night I learnt not every ride takes you home.

 My phone had just died, and like magic, a yellow taxi rolled up to the curb. I didn’t question it. I was too tired to overthink anything. I waved a lazy goodbye to my friends, slipped into the back seat, and leaned against the window.

The driver glanced at me in the mirror. “Rough night?”

I gave him a half-smile. “Just a long one.”

He nodded like he understood everything I didn’t say. “Name’s Zack, by the way.”

“Cool,” I muttered, not really caring. My head was buzzing. I just wanted to get home and wash the night off my skin.

He didn’t put my address into a GPS. That should’ve been my first warning sign. But Zack didn’t seem weird at first. He was… charming, in that older-guy-knows-things kind of way. Smooth voice, steady hands on the wheel. Comfortable silence.

Until he said, “So… how’s your ex doing these days?”

I blinked. Turned slowly to look at him. “What?”

He chuckled. “Didn’t mean to hit a nerve. I just figured… well, you looked like you were thinking about him at the party. Especially when you were talking to that guy in the green shirt.”

Something cold bloomed in my stomach.

I hadn’t mentioned my ex at the party. I hadn’t mentioned him in months. And that guy—the one in the green shirt—I hadn’t even gotten his name. Just talked, flirted a little. How would Zack know that?

“I never said I was at a party,” I said slowly, suddenly sobering up.

He didn’t look at me. Just smiled into the mirror. “Didn’t have to.”

That’s when I noticed we weren’t heading toward my apartment. Not even close.

“Hey. This isn’t the way—” I reached for my phone, but remembered: it was dead. I looked down, hoping to catch a street sign, but the buildings outside were unfamiliar. Industrial. Empty.

“Relax,” Zack said calmly. “You looked like you could use a detour.”

I reached for the door handle. Locked. My heart started pounding.

“Let me out,” I snapped.

He didn’t answer. Just kept driving. The smile was gone now. His face was blank. Focused.

We stopped outside a crumbling brick building. No lights. No signs. Just an iron door and stairs that creaked with every step. I screamed for help as he pulled me from the cab, but no one was around. No one ever is at that hour.

“Zack, please—”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked, voice flat now. “I used to live across the street from you. I saw you every day. Your routines. Your smiles. Your breakdowns. Your little dance parties alone in your room.”

He smiled, like this was some twisted love story. Like it made sense.

“I know you. I’ve always known you. I waited for the right night to bring you here. And tonight, you came to me.”

He dragged me into the building, down a dark hallway that smelled like mold and rot. His apartment looked like something out of a nightmare—walls lined with photos of me. Sleeping. Laughing. Crying. Showering. At home. At school. At the café I liked.

I thought I’d die there. My body was frozen, but my mind kept fighting. I had to think.

Then it hit me—my smartwatch. It had an emergency SOS feature I’d never used… until now.

I took a deep breath, forced my voice to soften. I became sweet.

“I get it,” I whispered. “I didn’t understand before, but… I do now. You’ve been there for me. Watching out for me.”

Zack stared at me, stunned. His eyes softened.

“You just wanted to be seen, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”

“I see you now,” I said, and opened my arms.

He hugged me.

And while his arms wrapped around me, I reached behind his back and triggered the SOS on my watch—three subtle taps. My location was sent. My emergency contacts alerted.

Zack sighed into my neck. “I knew you’d come around,” he murmured. “I knew you’d feel it too.”

“I feel it,” I whispered.

Fifteen minutes later, the sirens came.

Zack’s body went stiff.

A loud bang at the door. “Police! Open up!”

His head snapped toward me, rage boiling in his eyes. “What did you do?”

“I let them see you,” I said.

He lunged for something under the couch—but before he could move, the door was kicked in. Officers flooded in, yelling commands. Guns drawn. One of them tackled Zack. He screamed and thrashed, but a taser dropped him to the floor like dead weight.

An officer rushed to me, cutting the zip tie from my wrists and wrapping a coat around me. “We got your alert,” she said. “You’re safe now.”

Zack, bleeding and handcuffed, was dragged past me. As they shoved him into the back of the squad car, he looked up and smiled.

“Smart girl,” he said. “But I’ll always know where to find you.”

And just like that, he was gone.

But not from my mind.

Not from my nightmares.

Now, every time I get in a taxi—even in broad daylight—I catch myself checking the rearview mirror, half-expecting his eyes.

Because Zack still haunts me.

I still see him in every taxi driver.

And every time the door clicks shut, I wonder if this ride will take me home… or somewhere I won’t return from.