Shadows in the Walls

The room was cold, as if its walls were slowly draining the warmth from him. Triton felt his body heavier than usual, as if the air itself had thickened around him. He sat on the metal bed, hands clasped between his knees, eyes staring into nothingness.

Since waking up here, time had lost its meaning. No windows, no clocks, nothing but the rigid routine of doctors and their endless questions.

The doctors were different from any he had seen before. Their faces were too calm, their voices too low, their footsteps measured. They didn't just talk to him; they observed him, analyzed his words, studied his reactions. Their eyes held something he couldn't decipher, as if they were waiting for him to say something specific… or remember something.

But he didn't remember.

They asked him the same questions every day:

• "Do you remember how you got here?"

• "Does this place feel familiar?"

• "Do you hear things others can't?"

And every time, his answers didn't seem to matter. They focused on how he answered. Did he hesitate? Did he avert his gaze? Did his voice change? It was as if they were searching for a hidden crack inside his mind.

Today, there was a new doctor. A tall, thin man holding a file in his hands. He sat in front of him at the small table, flipping the file open slowly, glancing at the papers before asking,

"Triton… do you believe this is your real life?"

Triton didn't respond.

The doctor continued, his voice calm but carrying something beneath it—something like a challenge.

"We've tried every way to wake you up, but your mind refuses to cooperate. Why?"

Wake me up?

Something stirred inside Triton, as if the words carried an echo from long ago. He looked down at his hands. They were clean—no scars, no wounds—but he could have sworn he had seen blood on them before.

"You think I've lost my mind, don't you?" he finally spoke, his voice cold.

The doctor smiled, but it wasn't a real smile. "It's not that simple. What you believe to be reality… may not be reality at all."

The doctor stood up, closed the file, and before leaving the room, he said in a low voice,

"We'll try again tomorrow."

Triton remained seated, alone, as the walls around him seemed to tighten ever so slightly. In the corner of the room, there was a small mirror. He walked toward it, gazing into his reflection.

But for a fleeting moment… he felt that the person staring back at him wasn't him.

A Message in the Dark

Something else was wrong. As he turned back toward the bed, he noticed something that hadn't been there before—a small piece of paper on the table.

He wasn't allowed to have anything here. No one had given him paper or pens. So who had left it?

Slowly, he picked it up, his eyes scanning the few words written on it:

"You are not alone."

His heartbeat quickened. His breath slowed as if the air had thickened.

He looked around. The door was shut, no windows, no gaps, no one but him in the room.

But he wasn't alone.

As he lay back down, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone else was in the room. Something unseen, but present.

And then… the whispers began.

At first, he thought they were tricks of his mind. But no—they were there, faint, barely audible, yet undeniable.

Then, gradually, they grew clearer.

Muffled voices, overlapping, struggling to form coherent words.

He tried to ignore them. Pressed his hands against his ears, shut his eyes. But still, he could hear them.

This was not just his imagination.

Something was in the room.

The Breathing Wall

His eyes snapped open when he heard something different. Not whispers. Breathing.

Heavy, ragged, too close.

Slowly, he turned his gaze to the wall opposite his bed.

Something was wrong. The surface of the wall… wasn't right.

A faint bulge, barely noticeable, but as he focused, he saw it move.

He stood up quickly, his blood running cold.

Triton was not alone in this room.

The wall was breathing.

Frozen in place, his own breaths became shallow. The air around him grew even colder, clinging to his skin.

That was when he realized that what was happening wasn't just a hallucination.

Then… the wall started to crack.

A thin line appeared in the center, as if something behind it was pushing outward, trying to break free.

Then, a face emerged.

Not entirely human, but resembling one. A twisted entity, its features undefined, hollowed-out eyes drowning in darkness, its mouth open as if screaming—but without sound.

Triton couldn't move.

He was paralyzed, staring at this thing that should not exist.

Then, for the first time, its lips moved, and a hoarse, rasping voice whispered:

"You are not here."

And then… everything went black.

Between Reality and Delusion

When he woke up, he found himself lying on the bed. The room was silent. It was as if nothing had happened.

But he knew he wasn't mistaken.

Slowly, he turned his head toward the wall where he had seen the face.

There was a mark—faint but undeniable—fingerprints, as if something had tried to push its way out.

Something had been here last night.

And for some reason, Triton knew that what he had seen… was not just a nightmare.

It was a reality slowly leaking into this world