The two words on the receipt were “Help me.” My heart raced as I glanced at my date, now sweating profusely, avoiding my eyes. The waitress’s grip tightened on my arm, her whisper urgent. “He’s been watching me for weeks. I’m scared.” I nodded subtly, my mind racing. We stepped outside, and I pretended to fumble with my phone, signaling for help. The waitress slipped away, disappearing into the night.
He grabbed my wrist, his voice shaky. “Let’s go somewhere quiet.” Panic surged, but I played along, leading him toward a crowded street. As we neared a patrol car, I broke free and shouted, “Officer, help!” Two policemen approached, and his demeanor shifted to panic. They detained him, and I explained the waitress’s plea. The officers found her hiding nearby, trembling but safe. She revealed he’d been harassing her, using fake cards to lure victims.
At the station, I gave my statement, shaken but relieved. The waitress thanked me, her eyes filled with gratitude. I canceled my dating apps that night, vowing to trust my instincts. The ordeal left me wary, but it also reminded me of the strength I didn’t know I had.
