The corridor ahead was eerily quiet, the faint glow of the walls guiding Liam's steps. Each sound he made seemed to echo endlessly, a reminder of the emptiness surrounding him.
Liam's mind churned with the mirror's words. The maze didn't create your fears—it exposed them. Was that true? Had he really carried all this darkness within himself, only to have it torn open here?
He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away. Dwelling on them wouldn't help him survive. He focused instead on the corridor ahead, which began to curve downward, spiraling like a staircase.
The deeper he went, the warmer the air grew. Soon, he began to hear something faint—a rhythmic thudding, like a heartbeat, growing louder with every step.
The path opened into a vast cavern, the walls pulsing with a dim red glow. At the center of the cavern stood a massive structure, like a cage made of twisting black metal. Inside it, a light flickered weakly, as if struggling to stay alive.
Liam approached cautiously. The heat emanating from the cage was intense, beads of sweat forming on his brow. As he drew closer, he saw that the light inside wasn't just a flame—it was shaped like a figure.
A child.
"Help…" a faint voice called out, barely audible over the pulsing thrum of the cavern.
Liam froze. The child looked familiar—too familiar. It was a younger version of himself, crouched in the corner of the cage, arms wrapped around his knees.
"What…?" Liam whispered, his mind reeling.
The child looked up, tears streaming down his face. "Please," he said, his voice trembling. "I've been here so long. I don't want to be alone anymore."
Liam's stomach twisted. This wasn't real—it couldn't be. It was another trick, another trap. But the pain in the child's eyes was undeniable, and it tore at something deep inside him.
"Who did this to you?" Liam asked, his voice hoarse.
"You did," the child replied, his tone a mixture of sorrow and accusation. "You locked me away. You left me here."
Liam staggered back, his mind racing. "No. That's not true. I don't even understand what this place is!"
"You've always known," the child said, standing slowly. The light inside the cage flared, casting sharp shadows across the cavern. "The maze isn't just a place, Liam. It's you. Everything you've buried, everything you've feared—it's all here. And now you have to face it."
Liam felt a surge of anger. "I didn't choose this! I didn't ask for any of it!"
"But you're here," the child said simply. "And the only way out… is through."
The cage began to dissolve, the metal melting away like wax. The child stepped forward, his figure shimmering as he approached.
"Take my hand," he said softly.
Liam hesitated, every instinct screaming at him to run. But something inside him—something deeper than fear—urged him to stay. Slowly, he extended his hand.
The moment their fingers touched, a blinding light engulfed the cavern, and Liam felt himself being pulled into something vast and unknowable.
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The blinding light consumed Liam, his senses overwhelmed by a cacophony of sound and color. He felt weightless, like he was floating through a void where time and space no longer mattered. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.
Liam jolted awake, his body drenched in sweat and his chest heaving with frantic breaths. The familiar dampness of the basement walls greeted him, the faint stench of mildew filling his nostrils. His hands clawed at the ground, his fingers scraping against the cold concrete floor.
"No," he whispered, his voice hoarse and weak. "No, this isn't right. I escaped. I was…"
His words trailed off as his memories swirled in confusion. He had seen so much—corridors, challenges, that glowing child in the cage. It had felt real, every moment seared into his mind. But now, staring at the bleak reality of the basement, doubt began to creep in.
The door at the top of the stairs creaked open, and the masked figure stepped into view. Liam's heart sank.
"How are we feeling, Liam?" the figure asked, its voice oozing with mock concern.
Liam tried to push himself up, but his arms were too weak. "What… what did you do to me?"
The figure chuckled, descending the stairs slowly. "Ah, the mind is such a fragile thing, isn't it? A little push here, a little chemical persuasion there, and suddenly, reality is whatever I want it to be."
"No," Liam said, his voice trembling with rage. "You're lying. I saw… I saw the maze. I was there!"
The figure knelt beside him, its masked face inches from his. "Oh, you were there, Liam. But only in your mind. Every twist, every turn, every fear—it was all you. I just gave you the canvas."
Liam's head spun as the weight of the revelation crushed him. He had never left this basement. The maze, the mirror, the glowing paths—it had all been an elaborate illusion, a cruel game orchestrated by his captor.
"Why?" Liam asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Why do this to me?"
The figure stood, brushing imaginary dust off its gloves. "Because breaking people is an art. And you, my dear boy, have been my masterpiece."
Something inside Liam snapped. The despair that had gripped him moments ago was replaced by a surge of defiance. He wasn't going to let this monster win—not now, not ever.
With what little strength he had left, Liam lunged forward, grabbing the figure's leg and pulling with all his might. The figure stumbled, the mask slipping slightly to reveal pale skin beneath.
"Enough!" the figure snarled, kicking Liam away. "You've already lost, boy. Accept it."
But Liam wasn't listening. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline overriding his exhaustion. His eyes darted to the door at the top of the stairs.
This is my chance.
Liam's heart pounded as he pushed himself toward the stairs, each step feeling like it might be his last. The darkness of the basement seemed to pull him back, but he refused to give in. His only thought was to get out, to escape this nightmare once and for all.
His bare feet hit the steps with a thud as he hurried up, the sound of footsteps echoing from below. The figure was close—too close—but Liam didn't dare look back. The door at the top of the stairs was within reach.
He grabbed the handle and pulled, but it wouldn't budge. Panic surged through him, and he slammed his shoulder into the door, desperately searching for a way out.
He found the deadbolt and unlocked it with trembling fingers.
The door creaked open just as the figure grabbed his ankle, pulling him back.
"No!" Liam shouted, kicking with all his strength. His foot collided with the figure, sending it stumbling back.
Liam didn't hesitate. He pushed the door open wider and stepped out into the blinding sunlight.
It felt surreal, like he was waking from a dream. The fresh air filled his lungs, and he felt the heat of the sun on his skin.
He kept moving, his legs burning with each step as he ran across the uneven ground. In the distance, a car was approaching.
"Help!" Liam cried out, waving his arms.
The car slowed to a stop, and a man stepped out, his eyes widening in shock when he saw Liam's state.
"What happened to you? Are you okay?" the man asked, rushing over to him.
Liam could barely find his voice, but he managed to croak, "Call the police… I need help. I've been… trapped."
As the paramedics loaded Liam into the ambulance, he turned his head to look back at the house. Through the rearview mirror, he saw the police cars and officers moving toward the door. The house, though dilapidated and barely standing, seemed to pulse with an unsettling presence.
Suddenly, there was a flash of movement—a figure appearing in the window of the house. Liam's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the shape, the same figure that had tormented him for so long.
He had escaped, but the figure wasn't done.
Before Liam could process what was happening, he saw the black van. It roared to life, its engine growling as it peeled out of the driveway, speeding past the officers who had just arrived.
Liam's eyes widened, a sick realization dawning on him. The figure was escaping.
But how? He was just moments behind.
Through the ambulance window, Liam could see the chaos unfolding. Police officers shouted in confusion as gunshots rang out, echoing into the air.
One officer dropped to the ground, clutching his side as the shooter from the house fired indiscriminately. Liam's breath hitched in his throat as the scene turned into chaos. His hands clenched the edges of the stretcher as the ambulance sped away.
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The next day, Liam woke up in the sterile whiteness of a hospital room. His body felt heavy, his mind foggy, but his family was there. His mother, father, and sister stood by his side, their faces full of relief, and yet there was something in their eyes—a concern, a question they couldn't ask just yet.
Liam blinked, taking in the sight of them, and tried to sit up. But his body protested, his head spinning with the effort.
"Liam, you're awake," his mother said, her voice trembling. "We were so worried."
Liam opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry. He couldn't quite find the words. His mind was racing, still trying to process everything that had happened.
"The doctors said you were severely dehydrated and drugged," his father said, his voice calm but concerned.
Liam furrowed his brow. "Drugged?"
His mother nodded, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Yes, they said it's been affecting your memory, but don't worry. You'll be okay."
As the conversation continued, Liam's mind drifted back to the nightmarish games, the basement, the eerie figure who had tormented him. The confusion clouded his thoughts, and he struggled to make sense of it all.
Suddenly, the door to the hospital room opened, and two police officers walked in. One was holding a file, and the other had a grim expression on his face.
"We've been talking with the paramedics," the first officer said. "We've searched the area around the house. There's no sign of anything unusual. The house itself was empty—no hidden rooms, no secret basements. Just an old, abandoned building. No one else was found there."
Liam stared at the officer, his heart pounding. "But there was... there was a basement. The games, the figure. I saw it all."
The officer exchanged a look with his partner. "We know it's hard to understand, kid, but there was nothing there. The house was completely empty. No one inside but the shooter who escaped."
Liam's mind swirled. Was it all just a trick? Had everything he'd endured been a hallucination fueled by the drugs?
His thoughts were interrupted when the TV in the corner of the room flickered on.
The news anchor's voice filled the silence. "...and as the investigation continues, authorities have confirmed that no additional suspects have been identified in connection to the incident involving Liam Greene. Despite extensive efforts, the shooter is still on the loose."
The camera cut to a scene outside the house, the police tape still up, but the area now eerily quiet.
"Authorities urge anyone with information to come forward, but as of now, the case remains unsolved..."
Liam's breath caught in his throat as the broadcast continued. His mind raced, the images of the basement, the games, the figure—none of it made sense anymore. The truth seemed just out of reach, hidden behind a veil of confusion.
And the one thing that was clear was that the person who had done this to him was still out there.
The thought made Liam's chest tighten.
Liam lay back against the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts spinning. The sterile white walls, the beeping machines, the concerned faces of his family—nothing felt real anymore. Everything that had happened, the torment, the strange games, the figure... it all seemed like a twisted nightmare. But the pain in his body, the fog in his mind, the evidence that something was horribly wrong—it told him this was real.
He didn't know how to process it. How to make sense of what had happened. How to reconcile the truth of the police report with the vivid memories of what he'd experienced.
One thing, though, was clear: he couldn't rest until he knew the full truth. Until he understood why he'd been chosen.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows through the hospital room, Liam's thoughts turned to the man—the one who had done this to him. The one who had been pulling the strings. He had escaped. But not for long.
Liam had felt it in his gut the moment he saw the black van, speeding away from the chaos. This wasn't the end. The killer was still out there, and Liam wouldn't rest until justice was served.
He couldn't let fear paralyze him. He had survived. And now, he had to take control.
Liam turned his head toward the window, watching the world outside. Life was continuing, the city bustling, people going about their business. But for him, everything had changed. He was no longer just a victim. He was a survivor.
And survivors don't wait for the answers to come to them. They find the truth themselves.
"Liam, you need to rest," his mother's voice broke through his thoughts, a gentle reminder.
But Liam didn't respond. His mind was elsewhere. He was already planning his next move, his next step. He needed to find the man who had taken everything from him, and he wouldn't stop until he did.
Because no matter what they said, no matter how much they tried to convince him that it was all in his head, Liam knew the truth.
The basement. The games. The figure.
They were real.
And they were coming for him again.