Writers Jam

Author’s Note: The following contains daily entries of the protagonist. Includes depictions of blood and violence. Reader’s discretion is advised.

……………

#1

It is always the same room. The same flickering lamp. The same clock frozen at 01:35 AM.

I wake up lying on this strange mattress, heart pounding. The calendar reads July 15th, 1997. It never changes.

I tried tuning the radio again. Only static. No voices. No music. Just the low hum of nothingness.

The room feels both unfamiliar and familiar, like I have lived here and forgotten everything about it.

I do not know how many times I have woken up like this.

……….

#2

There it is again. The knock.

Knock knock. Pause. Knock. Knock knock.

It happens every time now.

I tried to open the door, but my arms would not move. Paralysis maybe. Or fear.

Outside, muffled voices. A shrill one, calling someone. “Y/N!!!”Then a crash. Plates shattering?

My body trembled uncontrollably.

……..

#3

The knocking. The shriek. The crash.

Each time, they repeat exactly. But I feel less afraid now. Less frozen.

Where am I….How do I escape?

This time, the door unlocked easily. As if it had been waiting.

I stepped into the hallway. Wooden stairs stretched downward. Each step I took echoed like a memory coming back.

………

#4

I lose consciousness too fast. I need to act quicker.

As I rush out of the room, the scream rings out again. I run, two steps at a time, toward the sound.

She is there. A woman, sprawled on the white kitchen tiles, blood spreading beneath her like ink in water.

A vase lies shattered beside her.

I try to move, to scream, to help. But I collapse. My body fails me.

Everything fades.

……..

#5

I wake up drenched in sweat.

Was it a nightmare. No. I remember everything. The woman. The blood.

I did not stop it.

This time I will.

I sprint downstairs. She is there. Alive. Doing the dishes.

I watch. Every breath tightens my chest.

Then, a girl enters the kitchen. Thin, pale, eyes burning.

The woman smiles gently and offers her something to eat.

The girl refuses.

She waits. Then turns suddenly, grabs the vase from the counter, and swings.

The woman calls out a name and collapses. Again.

……..

#6

I did not faint this time.

I stood frozen as the girl dropped the vase. Her chest heaved. Her hands shook.

She turned and ran.

I followed. My legs felt like lead, but I moved. I had to know who she was.

She entered the hallway. A narrow mirror hung on the wall.

She glanced at it. So did I.

And I froze.

It was my face.

Not similar.

The same.

Same tired eyes. Same faint scar on the right eyebrow. Same crooked bottom tooth.

I stumbled back. My stomach twisted.

I looked down at my own hands, hoping they were clean.

They were not.

They were stained red.

I have seen the woman die.

I have watched the girl kill her again and again.

And now, in the mirror, I see her.

It is me.