Jake woke up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. He was back in his room, drenched in sweat. The nightmare still clung to him, vivid and terrifying. A sharp knock at the door made him jump, snapping him out of his daze. He glanced around the room, disoriented, before stumbling out of bed and toward the door.

When he opened it, he was met by the stern faces of two police officers standing in the hallway. Their presence immediately set him on edge, his mind racing to figure out what was going on.

"Mr. Sim, we need you to come with us right now," one of the officers said, his tone firm but not unkind.

Jake blinked, still trying to shake off the remnants of his nightmare. "What? Why? What's happening?" he asked, confusion and anxiety lacing his voice.

The officers exchanged a quick glance, their expressions unreadable. "It's urgent, sir. Please, we need you to come with us."

Jake nodded slowly, though his confusion only deepened. "Okay, just... just give me a second," he replied, stepping back into his room to grab his jacket.

As he moved to the window to check outside, his heart sank at the sight that greeted him. A crowd had gathered around his building, their faces tense with worry and curiosity. Police cars with flashing lights lined the street, and an ambulance was parked nearby, its back doors open. The scene was chaotic, a stark contrast to the quiet of his room.

Curiosity and dread gnawed at him as he quickly slipped on his shoes and headed toward the door. "What's going on?" Jake asked the officers as he followed them out of the apartment.

The officers didn't answer, simply guiding him down the stairs and out into the street. As they emerged into the night, the cold air hit Jake like a wall, cutting through the remnants of his sleep-induced haze. He glanced around, trying to piece together what had happened.

It wasn't long before he spotted it—a cluster of people standing near the entrance of his building, their expressions grim. Jake's stomach twisted as he pushed his way through the crowd, driven by a need to see for himself.

When he finally managed to get a clear view, the sight that met his eyes made his blood run cold. A woman lay crumpled on the pavement, her body twisted at an unnatural angle, surrounded by a pool of blood. The gruesome scene was almost too much to take in—the shattered glass, the mangled limbs, the eerie stillness of her form.

Jake's breath caught in his throat as he took a closer look at the woman's clothes. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut. It was his neighbor—the one who had always annoyed him with her constant complaints and prying questions. She had been a thorn in his side, but he had never wished her any real harm.

Now, here she was, lying lifeless on the cold, unforgiving pavement. The world seemed to tilt around him as he stared at her, the noise of the crowd fading into a distant hum. He couldn't tear his eyes away, his mind struggling to process the horror of what he was seeing.

Jake barely registered the police officers approaching him again, their voices muffled as they spoke to him. All he could do was stare at the lifeless body of his neighbor, the reality of the situation crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

At the police station, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold, harsh glow on the sterile surroundings. Jake sat in an uncomfortable chair, his nerves on edge as he waited. The room was sparse, with nothing but a table and a few chairs. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed unnaturally loud, each second dragging on for an eternity.

Jake's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, still reeling from the sight of his neighbor's lifeless body and the chaotic scene outside his apartment. He barely had time to process what was happening before he was brought here, and now the uncertainty was gnawing at him.

The door to the room opened, and a detective walked in, a file in his hand. He was middle-aged, with a serious expression that made Jake's anxiety spike even higher. The detective sat down across from Jake, flipping open the file.

"Mr. Sim, we appreciate your cooperation," the detective began, his tone measured. "We need to ask you some questions about a recent incident at your university."

Jake's confusion deepened. "What incident? I don't understand... I haven't been at the university much in days."

The detective looked at him intently. "There was a shooting at the university yesterday. Several students were injured and dead, and..." He hesitated, his gaze sharp as he continued, "The shooter left behind a letter, Mr. Sim. Your name was mentioned in it."

Jake felt his blood run cold. "What? My name? What does that mean?"

The detective slid a piece of paper across the table. It was a copy of the letter left by the shooter. The handwriting was messy, almost frantic, and as Jake's eyes scanned the words, his heart began to race.

The letter was filled with rage and threats, the words scrawled in a way that made them almost unreadable. But one sentence stood out, clear and terrifying: "Jake Sim will be the last one to fall."

Jake's breath caught in his throat. "Why... why me? I don't understand. Who would want to do this?"

The detective leaned forward, his expression grim. "That's what we're trying to figure out. We need to know if there's anyone who might have a grudge against you, anyone who might want to hurt you."

Jake shook his head, his mind racing. "I don't know... I can't think of anyone. I haven't done anything that would make someone do this..."

The detective studied him for a moment before nodding slowly. "We're taking this very seriously, Mr. Sim. You're in danger, and we need to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible."

Jake could barely process the words. The idea that someone was hunting him, that someone wanted him dead, was overwhelming. He felt like he was trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up.

As the detective continued to ask questions, trying to piece together any possible connections, Jake's thoughts kept drifting back to the letter. The words seemed to burn into his mind, a constant reminder that his life was in danger.

Every answer he gave felt inadequate, every detail he provided felt insignificant. All he could think about was the fact that someone out there wanted him dead, and they were willing to go to terrifying lengths to make it happen.

Jake took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "The woman outside... I knew her. She was my neighbor, the one who kept bothering me about the leaking water in my apartment. She was always around, always nagging. But she didn't deserve this." His voice wavered as he spoke, the reality of the situation hitting him hard.

The detective nodded, his expression serious. "We're aware. We're looking into her connection to all of this. It's possible that she might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or that she was targeted because of her proximity to you. We're not ruling anything out."

Jake swallowed hard, his mind racing. "But why her? If this is all about me, why would they...?"

The detective leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Jake's. "It could have been a warning, a way to send a message to you. Or it could have been someone trying to cover their tracks. Right now, we don't have enough information to say for sure. But I need you to think carefully—was there anything unusual about your interactions with her recently? Anything that might give us a clue?"

Jake shook his head, struggling to remember. "No, nothing out of the ordinary. She was just... persistent, you know? Always trying to get me to fix the leak. But that's it. I never thought anything of it."

The detective nodded again, jotting down notes. "We're going to look into this further. In the meantime, I need you to stay close and keep in touch. We'll have officers nearby, and if you notice anything strange, anything at all, you need to let us know immediately."

Jake nodded, his mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. The image of his neighbor's lifeless body was burned into his memory, and the idea that her death might be connected to him was overwhelming. He had always found her annoying, but now, guilt gnawed at him.

As the detective continued to speak, Jake couldn't help but wonder what kind of danger he was really in—and whether he was next on whoever's list it was.

When Jake arrived home, he hurried to his laptop, his fingers trembling as he typed in the news website's URL. The headlines flashed on the screen, each one more alarming than the last. "Local School Shooting Leaves Students in Panic: Suspect at Large." The article described the chaos that had erupted earlier that day, with terrified students running for their lives as gunshots echoed through the halls. The shooter was still unidentified, but a chilling detail stood out—a letter left behind, mentioning Jake by name. The police were treating it as a targeted threat.

Jake's heart raced as he scrolled through the article, trying to make sense of the horror that was unfolding around him. Why was he being targeted? What did he have to do with this?

Before he could dive deeper into the news, his phone buzzed with a notification. A reminder popped up on the screen: "Camera show in 30 minutes." It was his regular gig, something he did to make ends meet, but the thought of putting on a cheerful face for the camera felt impossible after everything that had happened.

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't afford to miss this; he needed the money. Pushing the dark thoughts to the back of his mind, he stood up and headed to the bathroom to prepare himself for the show, trying to focus on the routine rather than the chaos outside.

Jake set the mood for his sensual dance, dimming the lights and turning on a soft, ambient track that filled the room with a soothing rhythm. The camera captured every movement as he glided across the floor, his body flowing with the music. He wore a fitted shirt that clung to his form, accentuating every curve and muscle as he danced. His movements were deliberate and captivating, each sway and spin perfectly timed to the beat.

The comments began flooding in almost immediately:

"You're amazing, Jake! This dance is incredible!"

"So hot! You're killing it tonight!"

"Wish to have you straight away"

"DO IT MORE"

"Can't take my eyes off you. Keep going!"

Jake reveled in the praise, feeling a surge of confidence with each compliment. He moved closer to the camera, his eyes locking with the lens, creating an intimate connection with his viewers. The chat was abuzz with excitement, and the tips were rolling in.

Suddenly, amidst the flurry of adoring messages, one stood out sharply:

"Meet me tonight. $10,000 for a private session—just you and me. No cameras. What do you say?"

Jake's eyes widened in shock. The amount was staggering, far beyond anything he had ever expected to make. His initial reaction was a mix of fear and disbelief. As a virgin, the thought of meeting a stranger for such an offer was intimidating and unsettling. Yet, the lure of such a substantial sum of money was tempting.

He hesitated, staring at the message. The idea of meeting someone he didn't know, let alone engaging in something intimate with them, was overwhelming. He thought about his current financial situation and the potential for a significant financial boost. After a moment of internal struggle, Jake decided to respond, agreeing through texts.

The stranger replied with instructions to go to a bar named "The Rusty Key." Jake's mind raced as he recognized the name. It was the same bar where he had lost his phone, the place he had visited before. The familiarity of the location made him even more anxious but also curious about what awaited him there.

Jake took a deep breath, feeling a mix of fear and determination as he prepared to leave for "The Rusty Key." for the following night.