The thick, musty scent of the barn filled my nostrils as I stumbled inside, my heart racing and my breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The darkness enveloped me like a warm blanket, the only light source a sliver of moonlight that pierced through the wooden slats. My skin was sticky with sweat, a side effect of the relentless summer heat the stress of final exams that had made me feel more like a caged animal than a human being.

I, Sheela was 22, living with my grandparents while I attended college. My grandfather’s friend, a man named Suraj , had come to stay for a week. He was 60, a rugged, silver-haired man with a scruffy beard that made him look like he hadn’t shaved in weeks. His eyes were seemed to look right through me. I’d caught myself staring at him more than once, my thoughts wandering to places they shouldn’t have.