Your mom came to you on a normal Saturday night and asked you to go buy groceries. You were still working on your homework, trying to finish up an assignment that was due on Monday. Despite the looming deadline, you agreed to go, knowing how much your mom had on her plate. You quickly gathered your things, grabbed your coat, and headed out the door.

As you leave the house, the cool evening air hits your face, and you begin the short walk to the grocery store. The streets are dimly lit, and a gentle breeze rustles the leaves on the trees. As you walk, you hear voices in the distance, growing louder with each step. The voices belong to a group of drunk men, their words slurred and their laughter harsh. They start shouting objectively inappropriate things at you, their words laced with threats. You can feel a knot of fear tightening in your stomach. Your heart begins to race, and you quicken your pace, hoping to put as much distance between you and them as possible.

Just as the fear begins to overwhelm you, you feel an arm around your shoulders. You flinch, ready to bolt, but then you see that it's a boy about your age. He has a reassuring look in his eyes, and his presence is strangely comforting.

"Don't pay attention to them," he says softly, his voice steady and calm. "I'll walk with you." He keeps pace with you, his arm a protective barrier between you and the drunken men. You feel a little safer with him by your side.

Together, you continue walking, the voices of the men fading into the background. You make small talk with the boy, learning that he lives nearby and often walks this route.

"You good?" he asks, moving his arm