I spent half day doing my second shopping at Arndale the following week until my fatigue body was about to give in. I felt the abdominal pain and gas pressure gushing out through my gastrointestinal tract, distracting me from my ongoing shopping that I decided to just continue tomorrow.

I alighted at the Claremont Road stop from no. 111 Stagecoach bus before headed for Maine Road and walked straight home. I passed the corner shop, witnessing the usual loud discussion between two middle aged men over politics which I effortlessly ignored as it no longer became my area of concern. However, I had a strange sensation settled over me like I was being followed. I glanced over my shoulder scanning the pedestrians behind me only to find chattering school kids walking in a group, a wandering hooded man, an old lady pushing her shopping trolley towards her car, a pair of mother and daughter strolling in the opposite direction and that middle aged men by the corner shop.

My glance hovered back to the hooded man, as he hurried himself closer heading for the same direction as I was. My intuition deducted that he seems normal, yet my nerve systems signalled otherwise. It sends cold shivers through my shoulders, raising the hair at the back of my neck as I felt reverberating chills slipping down my spine.

The hooded man's face suddenly became familiar to me as he drew near, like I had seen him somewhere before, somewhere dangerous. My legs automatically brisked up the pace, automatically switching to a small jog to cater my aching discomfort body. I glanced at my shoulder repeatedly towards the man, feeling my breath depleted by the sudden strides.

As he acknowledged my abrupt distress, his disguise began to unfold and accelerated towards me. His movement sent another panic signal into my system, rocketing my pace. I leaped forward, focusing my attention towards my house which was nearing by another mile while my lungs screaming, trying to keep up.

I clutched my shopping bag, panting hard and trying to ignore the plea from my pumping heart while groping for my keys in my pocket. Frustration began to seep in, wishing that I was as fit as before when jogging was breezy for me. I took another glance behind me and caught him sprinting a few feet away from me, I turned back and forced my legs to speed up.

I drew near to the front door of my house and was alarmed by the sight of it being left ajar. Nevertheless, feeling terror over the danger that drew near, I rushed into the house for sanctuary and immediately shut it behind me.

To my dismay, my safety was being further compromised by what awaited me inside the house when Mark suddenly appeared by the passageway and dragged me into the common room where I was greeted by Nick's dad, Hussaini and his other two men.

"Zahida, isn't it?" Hussaini beamed gladly and instructed Mark to set me free. "Sorry I had to break into your house like this. It's cold outside."

"You could at least wait outside in your car like everybody else," I clenched my jaw. "I don't assume you came here with Uber."

He sensed the unavoidable stiffening of my body and then he chuckled. "Please sit, my dear," he urged, patting the empty spot of the sofa next to him which I obeyed reluctantly. For a moment, I felt my stomach-churning was being replaced with a distressing feeling of their encounter. I carefully rolled my eyes at him who was busily scanning the room and caught my medication on the table. "You sick, child?"

"Yeah, it's the season of the year, isn't it?" I replied bluntly.

"It is, yeah," he nodded in agreement. "But those aren't normal medications your GP prescribed for you, ain't it? Often people get cold and flu during this season, not lethargic or anything that requires them to take folic acid. But then again, who am I to judge? There are so many new and weird diseases emerging out there that we all need to be careful, right?"

I kept my silence, it was obvious he knew too much already. Saying anything about my current condition would prolong their unwelcoming visit.