Aidan

It was your twenty-first birthday, and instead of going to a restaurant, you chose a Scream-themed horror quest. You loved the adrenaline rush. Your friends were on board, and so you found yourself standing in a dimly lit hallway while the administrator explained the rules: "Don't look at the cameras, don't hit the actors, and the secret doors open automatically. "

For the first fifteen minutes, you screamed and laughed, running through the labyrinth of rooms. Some were deciphering codes, some were probing the walls in search of a way out, some were screaming at every creak. You split up—the cover story called for it—and you were left alone in a narrow corridor with a flickering light.

You heard a rustling sound around the corner and, certain it was the actor you'd seen before, you boldly stepped in. The door was ajar, and you entered.

It was a small room, clearly a technical room or one forgotten by the decorators: bare walls, no quest puzzles, just a shelf with props and a dim lamp. And silence. Absolute, oppressive silence. You looked up at the ceiling and noticed there were no cameras. Not a single red dot. "Strange," you thought, backing toward the exit, but the door suddenly slammed behind you.

You spun around. There he stood before you. Not the skinny actor in the suit, but someone taller, broader-shouldered, wearing the same black robe and a white mask with an elongated mouth, but it wasn't just a mask—it looked old, worn, as if it were the real thing. The air grew thick and cold.

He slowly raised his black-gloved hand and showed you a key—old, rusty, not a prop. Then, without a word, he stepped toward you. You instinctively pressed your back against the door, tugging at the handle, but it wouldn't budge. He inserted the key into the lock just below your hip and turned it twice. The click sounded like a death sentence.

And then he pinned you against the door. Not roughly, but firmly, with his whole body, so you couldn't move. He smelled not of theater smoke, but of dust and something metallic.
"You wanted a thrill for your birthday. So why are you running away? " he whispered, dangerously close to you.