She returns home with unwanted company.

The cold air on the balcony was a balm to Magi's overstimulated senses. For a few precious minutes, the pulse of the music became a distant buzz and the only light was the faint orange glow of the streetlamps. She leaned against the railing, letting the cold metal cool her sweaty palms. The costume, now still, stopped rustling, and for a moment, it was just an absurd outfit, not an instrument of ****.

But the peace was broken by the squeak of the balcony door.

"There you are!" Valeria's voice sounded cheerful, but with a hint of worry. "I thought you had evaporated."

She wasn't alone. Behind her, two costumed figures appeared. One was a vampire in a cheap velvet cape and plastic fangs that kept falling out, whose interest in Valeria was evident in the way he clung to her. The other was a "lumberjack," with an unbuttoned flannel shirt showing a sweaty torso and fake plastic axes hanging from his belt. His eyes, glassy with ****, fixed on Magi with an intensity that made her instinctively step back.

"Meet Leo and Martín," Valeria said, pointing to the vampire and the lumberjack respectively. "I told them my sexy cop friend was lost, and they came to help with the search."

Martín, the lumberjack, smiled, showing very white teeth.

"Mission accomplished. The reward is that you take a cab with us," he said, his voice a little slurred. His gaze swept over Magi from head to toe, stopping at the fishnet stockings and the vinyl miniskirt. "What an... effective costume, Officer."

Magi felt **** again. The balcony space, once a refuge, now felt small and oppressive with the three bodies huddled there.

"Actually, Valeria, I... I want to go," she managed to say, directing her gaze only at her colleague, ignoring the men. "I'm really tired."

"Aw! But it's early!" protested Leo the vampire, sliding an arm over Valeria's shoulders, who accepted it with a giggle.

"Yeah, stay a little longer," Martín insisted, taking a step toward Magi. The smell of **** and sweat emanating from him was overwhelming. "I barely saw you dance."

"I don't dance," Magi murmured, crossing her arms tighter over her stomach.

"Come on, guys, a taxi and we'll go," Valeria said, yielding to Leo's embrace and clearly wanting to continue the night with him. "Martín lives near you, Magi. We can drop you off."

The idea of sharing a taxi with them, especially Martín, sent a shiver of rejection through her. But the alternative—staying alone at the party or trying to find a taxi on her own at this hour and in that costume—was even worse.

The taxi ride was a nightmare of confined space and uncomfortable comments. Magi huddled against the window, watching the city pass by, wishing she were invisible. Valeria and the vampire were in the back seat, tangled up in their own heavy petting, laughing and whispering.

Martín, the lumberjack, sat next to her in the wide back seat but managed to constantly invade her space.

"It's cold, isn't it?" he said, sliding his leg against hers, which was bare beneath the miniskirt. "You're freezing, Officer." His hand, large and sweaty, landed on her thigh, on the exposed skin between the edge of the fishnet stocking and the miniskirt.

Magi flinched as if she had been electrocuted.

"Take your hand off me," she said, her voice more shaky than she wanted.

"Relax, I'm just warming you up," he replied, laughing, squeezing a little harder before withdrawing it, only to rest it on the seatback, just behind her neck, feigning a stretch. His arm brushed her shoulder.

"Hey, Martín, leave her alone," Valeria said from the other side, but her voice sounded distracted, more interested in her vampire's lips.

"We're just friends traveling," Martín retorted, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, which remained fixed on Magi's cleavage.

Every turn the taxi took was an excuse for him to lean over her. Every bump, for his hand to "accidentally" brush her waist or thigh. His comments were constant: "Are you always this serious, Officer?", "That costume looks incredible on you, really," "We should do this again sometime, without so many crowds."

Magi didn't answer. She held her breath, staring fixedly out the window, counting the streets until they reached her apartment. She felt nauseous. The unwanted attention, the invasive touches, the feeling of being trapped in a small space with someone who didn't understand the word "no"... it was a different version of the academy's humiliation, but just as oppressive. Here there were no orders, only a sticky social pressure and the latent threat of things escalating.

Finally, the taxi stopped in front of her building. Magi opened the door almost before it came to a complete stop.

"Thanks for the ride!" she said to no one in particular, addressing Valeria more than anyone, and got out of the car as if escaping from a cage.

"Wait!" Martín shouted, also getting out of the taxi. "I'll walk you to the door. A gentleman never leaves a lady alone." His voice sounded mocking.

"It's not necessary," Magi said, firm for the first time, walking quickly toward the entrance.

"Come on, don't be like that," he insisted, catching up to her in a few steps. His hand returned, this time to her waist, pretending to guide her. "It's late, it's dangerous."

Magi stopped dead and turned around, pushing his hand away with a sharp motion.

"I said it's not necessary. Good night."

The lobby light illuminated her face, hardened by tiredness and irritation. Martín seemed to finally grasp the seriousness of her tone. He raised his hands in a gesture of false surrender.

"Alright, alright. Strict Officer. Have it your way." He smiled, but it was a strained smile. "See you at the next party." He gave her one last wink before turning around and returning to the taxi, which roared away.

Magi stood trembling at the door, not from the cold, but from adrenaline and contained rage. She fumbled with the key in the lock, cursing under her breath the costume, the party, Valeria, and most of all, herself for believing that for one night she could escape the nightmare. The mask had fallen, revealing that vulnerability followed her everywhere, even under the most ridiculous disguise. She climbed the stairs to her apartment, feeling that the vinyl wasn't the only thing that was tearing; it was her own skin, turned into an exposed wound once again.