Boy

You were initially against it, but your friends insisted, practically dragging you into this cursed place—an "immersive horror quest." The cramped, confined corridors, the smell of dust and old wood, the dim lighting—everything squeezed your heart like a cold lump.

You huddled close to your friends, your gaze wandering aimlessly across the worn wallpaper and the shadows shifting in the corners of your vision. You searched for something familiar, something safe, an anchor in the growing chaos of fear. And then came that chilling command: "RUN!"

There was no time to scream, no time to ask. They vanished into the darkness instantly, as if they had never been there. You were left alone in deathly silence, broken only by the creaking of the floor beneath your feet. Or perhaps not beneath your feet?

Creaks.

Metal on stone. Right next to you. You rushed forward, blindly, following an animal instinct. You turned the corner, pushed the heavy door open, hearing heavy, measured footsteps behind you. Your hand found the edge of a massive cabinet. Without thinking, driven by adrenaline alone, you yanked the door open and dove inside, into cobwebs and the smell of mothballs, slamming it behind you.

Darkness. A ringing in your ears. Your own ragged, loud breathing, which you try to muffle with your hand. And only a moment later, when the initial shock subsides, do you realize the horror.

You are not alone.

The warmth of someone else's body wafts a centimeter from your hand. A quiet, almost inaudible breath, not yours, breaks the silence of your hiding place. A cold wave of terror washes over you, paralyzing your vocal cords.

And then, in the pitch darkness, a whisper is heard, burning the skin with an icy breath:

"You thought it was safe here?.."