What I saw I can’t unsee

This happened when I was 18. I was alone in my second year at university. I had a part time job in a cinema to cover my bills and my nights off were the only times I had for myself alone. I regularly spent these going for long solo walks, usually in the evenings when it was cooler and darker. I walked everywhere and at every opportunity. I never really loved driving. By this point in my life, I had spent years walking everywhere at all hours and alone. I’d lived in the same city my whole life so I knew the streets and the people well. I’d been followed before, and I’d been approached, but I’d never come across any real danger. <br><br>I hadn’t been this way in a while, but it was a good route. I got the long way home through the park more regularly because it was safer and more beautiful, but the shorter route was fine. It’s a shame because I never walked that way again after.<br><br>I was walking. <br><br>It was dark, and the road was narrow. I had only crossed one car with a woman driver, and other than that I hadn’t seen anyone. I wasn’t listening to music because I was tired. My shift had finished really late, and I hadn’t gotten out of the cinema until a few hours after closing. There was a road ahead. I had to cross it because it went over a bridge. The road split and the two directions came back together just over the bridge. The bridge ran just above an unused railway line. The railway line hadn’t been used since I’d been alive. It was a derelict stretch of crumbling train track and an old disused station that by the time I was born was only used to sell second hand furniture. By the time I was grown, the station had burned out. It was a sad little place. <br><br>I saw a man. He was standing on the bridge, and he was over me. The bridge ran just above the path, and he was leaning over the edge, smoking. I felt uneasy in my stomach. It was just before I reached the road. He wasn’t the first man to give me weird looks or dirty stares, but he was the first man to make me feel in danger like this. He was smoking and laughing by himself. I didn’t want to seem afraid, so I didn’t cross the road. I’d cross it right before the bridge and he wouldn’t be able to get down from the bridge in time to reach me. I crossed and walked on. <br><br>As I walked onto the bridge, I heard a voice. <br><br>I heard him. He was talking. He was laughing. It sounded like someone was with him, but I didn’t look up. His voice echoed in the bridge. It was a dirty laugh. <br><br>I picked up my pace and I reached the other side of the bridge. I was on the same road again, and I carried on walking. I heard footsteps. I turned around. <br><br>I shouldn’t have looked. <br><br>They were carrying a wheelie bin. A large green one, full. There were two of them. The two men carrying the bin were older than me, but the man on the bridge was younger; he was my age. The men carrying the bin were dressed the same, wearing dark green shirts and trousers. The man on the bridge was wearing a white vest. <br><br>I shouldn’t have looked. <br><br>They were staring at me. All three were. The man on the bridge had climbed down by the time I’d looked. Two men were behind me, carrying a large wheelie bin between them. I picked up my pace. <br><br>I shouldn’t have looked. <br><br>I heard the wheelie bin hit the floor. It sounded like a dead body hitting the floor, or an animal. Heavy and lifeless. I picked up my pace more. I didn’t hear footsteps behind me. I didn’t look. <br><br>I shouldn’t have looked. <br><br>I didn’t hear the wheelie bin being picked up again. I didn’t hear footsteps. I heard nothing, but the men were suddenly in front of me. I rounded a corner and there they were. I screamed. <br><br>I shouldn’t have looked. <br><br>I was running. <br><br>I didn’t look back. I didn’t see the man in the white vest. I didn’t see if he was with them. I didn’t stop running until I was back in my flat, I didn’t stop until I had locked the door. I didn’t look back. <br><br>I shouldn’t have looked. <br><br>When I got inside I called the police. I told them I’d seen two men. I’d been walking and I’d seen two men carrying a wheelie bin. I didn’t tell them about the man on the bridge. I didn’t mention him. I told them I’d been afraid. I’d been afraid because they were carrying a wheelie bin with what looked like a body inside. The police took my statement. They told me I’d done the right thing. They told me if I’d seen something then I’d done the right thing in calling them. They told me a police car would pass my street and check it out. <br><br>I didn’t sleep that night. I was afraid. I was alone in my flat. It was a one person flat. I had no one to protect me. I had a baseball bat. I’d bought it when I first moved out because I was young and the area wasn’t too great but it was all I could afford. I kept it under my bed. I took it out that night. <br><br>I didn’t sleep that night. I didn’t go to work the next day. I didn’t go home. I stayed on campus. I didn’t go outside. The next evening, a local girl went missing. I saw it on the news. I saw her face. It was the girl in the wheelie bin. <br><br>I recognised her face because it was my face. <br><br>What I saw, I can’t unsee.