For the past twenty days, I had been watching everything. Every shadow. Every whisper. Even the smallest details that no one else would notice.
In the morning, the place was quieter—an eerie, unnatural quiet. No footsteps echoed through the cold corridors. No distant voices carried through the walls. No gunshots shattered the silence. Nothing. Except the light.
The light was the only thing that never left. It spilled softly through cracks, casting pale shapes that danced slowly on the walls.
But at night... The silence fractured. Sounds returned like ghosts— Footsteps, slow and deliberate. Gunshots, sharp and final. And whispers... low, almost desperate, curling around the corners.
The light remained my only friend. Morning was the time of emptiness. The time when absence became a presence in itself.
That's why I knew— If there was ever a right time to try, it was the morning.
I didn't sleep. I sat by the door, eyes fixed on the swallowing darkness beyond. The lock lay there in front of me—fragile, thin, almost mocking in its simplicity.
Seconds slipped by. Minutes blended into hours.
Until the color of the wall began to shift, and the faintest thread of light started to leak from above.
Morning—finally.
I reached out. Fingers trembling, I gripped the lock. Pulled.
Hesitation gripped me like a cold hand.
A faint creak.
Then… it gave way.
I pushed the door open.
Cold metal against my palm. The sound of it scraping the floor was a scream trapped in time.
The air outside the room was different. Sharper. Colder. Quieter.
I stood at the threshold. I looked out.
I couldn't see much. Not yet.
But I was outside.
I had left.
My first step into the unknown felt impossibly heavy— as if my body refused to believe the freedom it had suddenly found.
The hallway was short and suffocating. The walls cracked, damp, smelling of decay and neglect.
I pushed the last door. Wooden. Rusted. Fragile but yielding.
It swung open without protest.
I stepped out into the world.
My head tilted up.
A pale sun hung low, casting weak light through the towering trees that surrounded me in every direction.
No path. No voices. No signs of life.
An abandoned warehouse, lost and trapped within the arms of the forest.
I glanced back once, then without hesitation, I ran.
Every fiber of my being screamed— Run. Faster. Don't stop.
I ran without knowing where I was going.
My feet tore through grass and stumbled over thick roots, my heart pounding violently, as if it wanted to escape before I could.
The forest grew denser. Sunlight filtered faintly through the branches, but I never looked up—only forward.
Time lost meaning. Minutes? Hours?
Then... I heard it.
A distant murmur.
I moved toward it.
First, the light appeared—weak but certain.
Then, an open clearing—no trees, no shadows.
And finally—the road.
A long asphalt ribbon, alive with speeding cars and the hum of a different world.
I stopped at its edge, breath ragged, heart still racing.
I watched the cars fly past—unaware, untouched by my story.
Without thought, I stepped into the middle of the road.
Stood still.
Right in front of the oncoming traffic.
I raised my hand.
My silence was louder than any scream could ever be.
A car approached, headlights piercing the dimness.
My feet refused to move.
The brakes screamed, tires skidding harshly.
The car stopped.
The windshield reflected my fear back at me.
The driver's door creaked open slowly.
A man stepped out, hesitant, cautious.
"Are you... are you okay?"
His voice was soft, careful, unsure.
I said nothing.
I only stood there, breathing hard, feeling the weight of his gaze.
That was the first human voice I had heard face-to-face... in what felt like an eternity.
He took a hesitant step closer.
Then another.
But kept his distance.
"Do you need help?"
I looked at him.
My lips dry and cracked.
My voice came out soft and rough, like rust on old metal:
"Take me... to the nearest city."
He froze, startled by my words.
Maybe he didn't expect me to speak.
Maybe he was scared.
But he nodded.
"All right. Get in."
He opened the back door.
I climbed inside without another word.
The car started moving.
Finally... I was leaving.
Everything.
I sat in the back seat.
The window beside me.
The road stretched endlessly ahead.
The man didn't speak.
Neither did I.
Everything looked ordinary—grass on both sides, blue sky above, faded road signs.
But something inside me broke.
My breaths grew heavier.
Then louder.
I lost control.
Tears came.
Silent at first.
Then faster.
Until I choked on them.
I covered my face with my hands.
And cried.
Not because I was sad.
Not because I was relieved.
But simply because I was finally away from that room.
The road was long... endless, as if I wasn't moving at all.
"A city... I'm on my way to a city."
I didn't know its name.
I didn't even know if I wanted to arrive.
I watched the trees bend and disappear behind us.
The light shifted.
Streets grew wider.
Noise seeped in—distant horns, bright advertisements.
People everywhere.
So many people.
Everything moved too fast...
And I only stared from behind the glass.
I lowered my gaze for a moment.
My hands trembled.
"Did I survive?"
No answer came.
I closed my eyes.
Then whispered softly:
"Let me off here... downtown."
He didn't ask why.
Just stopped the car.
I got out.
Standing on the sidewalk, swallowed by the noise and the chaos