Time froze.

  Mellisa couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  The thing before her wasn’t possible.

  She could barely make out the details in the darkness, but the shape was unmistakable—wrong. Limbs stretched unnaturally long, twisting in ways that defied logic. And its eyes… burning, piercing red, locked onto her.

  One of its grotesque limbs moved, reaching down toward her, slow and deliberate.

  Her body reacted before her mind could catch up.

  She bolted.

  Door after door, hallway after hallway, she ran, the world around her a blur of color and motion. Behind her, the noise of pursuit wasn’t coming from the floor. It came from the walls. The ceiling.

  Something wasn’t chasing her—.

  She threw herself into a room, an elegant bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Her hands fumbled to push a small dresser against it, just as something slammed against the other side.

  Her chest heaved. She gasped for air. Then—

  A gentle knock, followed by a familiar voice.

  “Hey? Are you there?”

  Her heart nearly stopped.

  Kane.

  She sat frozen, unable to speak, unable to think.

  His voice came again, softer, coaxing. “You can let me in. You trust me, don’t you?”

  Something was wrong.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears.

  The voice sharpened. “Let me in. Now.”

  Mellisa pressed herself against the dresser. Her voice trembled. “I-If you’re Kane… then what’s my name?”

  Silence.

  Then, Kane’s voice, but different. Wrong.

  “You can’t hide in there forever.”

  Something scurried. The sound disappeared into the walls.

  Then—nothing.

  A silence so deep it made her stomach twist.

  Panic clawed at her. The room was suffocating—no windows, no way out except the door she couldn’t open. The walls felt too close. Too tight.

  I need to get out of here.

  She forced herself to scan the room. A draft.

  She crouched near a desk, hands scrambling until they found it—a large hidden vent. Big enough to crawl through.

  She tore the cover off and pulled herself inside.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The vent was cold, metallic, endless. She crawled. And crawled. Twisting left, then right, up, then down. Her arms ached.

  Then, a sound.

  Not hers.

  Something else was in there with her.

  She moved faster. Faster. Until—

  An opening.

  She forced it open and scrambled inside, her chest rising and falling in shallow, panicked gasps.

  Then her stomach dropped.

  The room was empty.

  No doors. No windows. No vent.

  She spun, heart hammering. The walls pressed closer. Four feet. Three feet. She could feel them tightening around her.

  Her breathing hitched. She clawed at the walls, pounded with her fists, but they wouldn’t budge.

  She screamed.

  Her mind blurred. Were the walls actually moving? Or was it just her?

  Then—

  .

  A breeze brushed against her face.

  She turned.

  The vent was back. The room was normal again.

  She didn’t hesitate. She threw herself inside, crawling, desperate, as fast as she could.

  At the next junction, she paused. Left or right?

  She turned—

  And saw them.

  Two glowing crimson eyes.

  Limbs stretched grotesquely to fit inside the vent. A thin, skeletal body twisted unnaturally, its neck too long, its fingers too sharp.

  Its face—

  A jester’s mask. .

  Mellisa’s breath caught in her throat.

  Then it moved.

  Faster than anything should be able to move.

  She pushed forward, throwing herself toward the opening, scrambling, heart slamming against her ribs.

  The vent exit resisted her pushes.

  She shoved against the grate. It burst open, revealing a drop to the floor below.

  She hesitated… but there was no time to think.

  She started to climb out—

  Something grabbed her ankle.

  She kicked.

  She thrashed.

  Her foot connected hard against the porcelain face.

  The ground rushed toward her.

  Then—

  ——

  She woke slowly.

  Head pounding.

  Disoriented.

  The room was different.

  A window.

  Outside—nothing but darkness.

  She staggered forward, pressing her hands against the glass. It didn’t budge.

  Panic flared. She grabbed a lamp, heaving it against the window with all her strength.

  Glass shattered. Cold air rushed in.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  She climbed through.

  She dropped.

  The impact jolted her fully awake. Her hands and legs were bleeding. Glass lodged inside.

  Dazed, she turned back.

  The thing stood at the window. . Its mask once whole now broken. Shattered and broken, now resembling many different masks all fused. Its arms reach to the windowsill. She watches it start to pull itself out.

  She ran.

  She didn’t look back.

  Through the trees, through the darkness, through exhaustion and fear and confusion—

  She ran until she reached the town.

  She didn’t know how.

  Didn’t care.

  Her legs carried her home on instinct alone.

  The town was quiet. Dark. Empty.

  She reached her house, knocking weakly on the door.

  Inside, arguing voices fell silent.

  Then—

  The door swung open.

  Her mother, face twisted in anger—

  Then softening. Eyes widening.

  “Mellisa?”

  Warm arms wrapped around her.

  She collapsed.

  ——

  She woke hours later.

  Her mother’s voice, gentle, worried.

  “What happened?”

  Mellisa couldn’t answer. She just cried.

  No one would believe her. It wasn’t possible.

  But ever since that night, She never went near Kane again.

  If he tried to talk to her, she shoved him away. Rough, mean, cruel, like before.

  She had to. She couldn’t let him get close. Because she could never go back there again.

  Mellisa left town the moment she turned sixteen.

  She enlisted in the military, throwing herself into the rigid structure of training and routine. Anything to keep her mind occupied. To keep it at bay.

  Her parents passed not long after. She didn’t stop. She buried herself in work, in discipline, in anything that kept her from thinking too much.

  Somewhere along the way, she found solace in music. Singing became a quiet refuge, a rare thing that felt hers. The military paid for her college, where she majored in teaching—but music stayed with her. She poured just as much effort into it, as if balancing the two could keep her grounded.

  At twenty-one, she graduated with both degrees. A great feat, fueled by her need to keep going.

  She had no intention of going back.

  She was an exemplary soldier, a role model among her peers. She had built a new life, one where she was strong, disciplined, untouchable.

  But it never left her.

  No matter how far she ran, how hard she worked, the memory lurked in the back of her mind, festering. The thing in the house. The thing with the eyes. The Limbs. The Mask.

  It haunted her.

  And so, against all logic, against every instinct screaming at her to let it go—she returned.

  She needed answers.

  Instead, she stepped into a living nightmare.