Two Can Keep A Secret If One is Dead

I don’t know where I’m going or what time it is. All I know is that I’ve been trapped in that room for what feels like forever. My thoughts race while time crawls, each second an eternity. My mind is foggy, my body on autopilot. Anywhere is better than that room.

That room. That suffocating place. A single door, concrete walls, a flickering bulb, and a lifetime’s worth of mistakes. It was just me and my best friend locked inside. We didn’t know who had done this to us, or why. For some time, having each other was almost enough. Almost.

But desperation is a patient predator. Hunger hollowed me out until there was nothing left but a primal instinct for survival. I don’t know how it happened—but it did. Those screams should have stopped me, but they didn’t.

I had eaten with my best friend.

I don’t know why, and I still don’t know how. There’s a word for what I did, but naming my sin only makes the anguish worse. I couldn’t look at his corpse, but the proof was all there. His blood painted my hands and stained my face, the warm liquid dripped down my chin onto
the ground. Even now, the metallic taste of blood still lingered on my tongue. I feel sick.

The final straw was my escape, or rather the “obstacle” of my escape. I remember thinking about trying to open the door. I thought about a way to pick the lock or even using brute force to break it, but none of that was needed. To my relief and horror, the door was unlocked.
Just like that. No traps, no guards—nothing. I just walked out.

Now I’m outside. The night air hits my skin, cold and sharp like glass. The street is empty, but it feels alive—as if the shadows themselves are breathing. Streetlights flicker in the distance, blinking in rhythm with my heartbeat. The wind howls and whispers at the same time,
taunting me for my foolishness and laughing at my actions. I couldn’t take it anymore. So I keep walking—wandering through the endless dark, haunted by the sound of footsteps echoing behind
me.