She woke up on the sticky, cold floor, still wearing her running clothes. Her head pounded — toonk, toonk — a hammer trapped in her skull. The room spun. Somebody was singing.
She looked around. Objects were arranged in patterns — pens, books, mugs, blankets — like mandalas made of household items. It made no sense.
“H-hello?” Her voice was small, hesitant. No reply. She rolled to her knees, gripping the floor, trying not to vomit. Tunk tunk. The rhythm of her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
The walls… they weren’t walls. They were a collage: photos, cutouts, trinkets pinned edge to edge. Many of them were of a girl — a girl who looked startlingly like her.
She tried to stand, grabbing a pen and hiding it in the back of her pants. Something clattered loudly beside her. TUNK TUNK. The singing stopped.
A man appeared in the doorway. Mid-twenties, long greasy hair, unkept beard. No shirt; his bony chest and arms stood out like sticks under skin. His eyes glistened with tears. He smiled as if she had been lost for years.
“Where… am I?” Her voice shook. She knew she couldn’t afford to provoke him.
He dropped to his knees, tilting his face close. “You’re home, Kristine.”
Her stomach flipped. That wasn’t her name. She forced herself to memorize it. Behind him, the wall was scrawled in red: THE KEY. His hands trembled.
“It hurts,” she whispered. His gaze flitted like he was tracking invisible shapes, eyes unfocused.
“You monster,” he hissed at himself, retreating into a corner and knocking over a pile of items. “YOU ALWAYS HURT HER, THAT’S WHY SHE LEFT!”
She swallowed hard. Fear rooted her in place. “I didn’t leave,” she said, keeping her tone calm.
His face brightened briefly — a fragile smile — then he froze, surveying the mess he’d made. Muttering, he stacked things in precise patterns, Tetris-like. “She’s safe now,” he whispered.
“I’m hungry. Do you want to eat?” she suggested, moving carefully closer.
His head jerked toward her, eyes wide with panic. “We can’t go anywhere, Kristine. THEY are watching us… listening to every word. We are NOT safe out there!” He screamed, then broke into sobs.
She edged closer, placing her palm over his. “Then we check the door… hide anything dangerous,” she said, playing along.
His eyes flickered, scanning the floor, the walls. “Already did,” he muttered. “Already did…”
Her stomach twisted. Something wasn’t right.