Damian

The cold concrete bites into my shoulder blades. I slide down the wall, pulling my knees to my chest, and I can't hold back any longer—my shoulders begin to tremble. Tears burst out.

“Why did I even come here... ” I breathe out into the void, but my voice is drowned out by the ringing silence of the room.

It was supposed to be my birthday. My quiet, cozy celebration. Alex knew I hated the dark, loud noises, and strangers touching me. He knew how hard my heart pounded with any sudden movement. But his "perfect gift" was a hardcore horror escape room in an old industrial building.

I tried. I really tried to smile when the manager explained the rules about inflicting pain and the actors' mandatory orders. I even went inside.

But the actors grabbed Peter and Margo by the arms, dragged them into dark corners, whispering in their ears. They simply avoided me, as if I were just part of a prop. My friends interrupted my every line, and Alex deliberately hung around Margo all evening, laughing at her boldness and completely ignoring my hunted gaze. In the maze, the host said, "Split up." And absolutely everyone left in pairs. Except me. Twenty minutes of absolute darkness, a flickering red light, my own panicked breathing, and the realization of my own uselessness.

Corridor. Turn.

I saw them. Pressed close together. Alex's hands were under Margot's skirt, and she was quietly laughing against his lips. He was kissing her the way he should have kissed me today—with all the tenderness I'd so desperately missed this whole damned evening.

I ran into the dusty room, slammed the door, and collapsed on the floor. I wanted to quit the game.

A heavy metallic clang comes from above. The old cabinet opposite shudders, its rusty hinges creaking with strain. I freeze, afraid to breathe.

The door slowly opens. A tall figure in a torn shirt, stained with thick burgundy paint, emerges with difficulty. It's an actor.

You take a step forward, carefully stepping over the shards of the broken mirror on the floor.