he two words scrawled in shaky red ink stared back at me: “Help Me.” My heart pounded as I dropped the pad, my hands trembling. I glanced around the restroom, but the woman was gone. My boyfriend rushed in, sensing my distress. “What happened?” he asked, his voice urgent. I showed him the pad, and his eyes widened. We searched the area, but she had vanished into the crowd.
Confused and alarmed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something sinister was at play. Was it a prank, a cry for help, or something more dangerous? The image of her desperate eyes lingered. We reported it to security, who promised to investigate, but no trace of her was found. The incident haunted me, a mystery etched in red ink.
Later, I wondered if I should have followed her, offered aid. Guilt mixed with fear. I posted about it online, hoping someone might recognize her. The emojis—shock and a pointing hand—captured my disbelief. If you know anything, please reach out. This strange encounter left me questioning: was it a warning, or a plea I failed to answer?