The Escape that never was

Before sleeping that night, I told myself I would run out of the house.

I was totally tired of the burden, pain, and devastating moments I had felt. The walls of my room felt like a prison, closing in on me with every passing second. My heart pounded as I planned my escape. I would wait until midnight, slip through the back door, and disappear into the night. No more shouting, no more fear, no more pretending everything was fine.

As the clock struck twelve, I tiptoed out of bed, grabbed my small backpack, and crept toward the door. My fingers trembled as I turned the handle. Just as I stepped outside, the cold night air brushing against my skin, I heard a whisper behind me.

"You’re finally leaving, huh?"

I spunned around, my breath catching in my throat. Standing in the shadows was my younger brother, his eyes filled with something between relief and sorrow. "Take me with you," he whispered.

For a moment, I hesitated. This was supposed to be my escape. But before I could respond, a chilling voice echoed through the darkness.

"Neither of you are going anywhere."

The hairs on my neck stood on end. That voice... it wasn't our parents. It was something else. Something waiting for us in the night.

My breath hitched as my brother and I turned toward the voice. A figure stood at the edge of the shadows, just beyond the porch light. It was tall, too tall, with long, clawed fingers that twitched at its sides. My heart pounded like a war drum.

"Who... who are you?" I stammered, stepping protectively in front of my brother.

The figure didn’t move at first. Then, slowly, it tilted its head, its face shrouded in darkness. "You don’t remember me?" it asked, its voice like a whispering wind through dead leaves.

A chill ran down my spine. Something about it felt... familiar.

Then it hit me. The nightmares. The dark figure that had haunted my dreams for years, always standing just outside my reach. I had convinced myself it wasn’t real.

My brother tugged at my sleeve. "We need to go. Now."

I didn’t need convincing. Grabbing his hand, I bolted toward the street. But as soon as our feet hit the pavement, the world around us warped. The road stretched endlessly, the houses distorted like melted wax. No matter how far we ran, we remained trapped in the same nightmarish loop.

The figure was no longer behind us. It was in front.

"You can’t leave," it murmured, its voice dripping with something ancient, something hungry. "Not until you remember."

"Remember what?" I screamed, desperation clawing at my chest.

It stepped closer, and finally, the light from a flickering streetlamp caught its face. My breath left me in a choked gasp.

It was me. A twisted, hollow-eyed version of myself. A version that had never left this house.

"You ran once before," it whispered, stepping closer. "But you never really escaped."

My body went cold. My brother’s grip on my hand tightened.

I looked at him, my heart breaking. Then, I came back to myself.

It wasn’t real.

Nothing was.

I had never left that house.

And I never would.

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MORAL:

Ultimately, the story explores the haunting nature of unresolved pain, showing that some things can’t simply be outrun; they must be faced.