Chapter 1

The world felt quieter today. There was something strangely comforting about being alone, as if it offered a kind of peace that people never could. People always wanted something. Always needed a response, a word, an opinion. It was easier not to give it. Easier to let the world spin without becoming part of it. Silence was simpler. Nothing was demanded. Time passed without pressure. The quiet could be controlled.

It was another Saturday, just like every Saturday. The phone buzzed, pulling attention away from the stillness. Messages popped up in the group chat, the usual routine. Friends. Plans. Jokes. There were the usual invites to hang out, the same familiar names, the same casual banter. It didn't matter. Nothing changed. No need to reply. No need to join in. Let them talk, let them plan, let them have their fun. It was easier to stay away.

The phone buzzed again. "Seriously? Not even a 'hello'?"

The screen lit up. The words were familiar. The teasing had become a ritual. A glance at the message, then a decision made—no response. It wasn't worth it. Let them forget. Let them keep talking.

Another ping. "Come on, dude. Don't be lame."

The same words, the same tone. The same push, the same attempt to get attention. It wasn't any different from before. But there was something about it, something that felt a little more insistent. A little more demanding. The pressure to reply hung in the air for a moment, but it wasn't enough to move. Why bother? Why respond? What was the point? It wasn't needed.

The phone was pocketed, and the quiet returned. The group chat messages would still be there later, but for now, there was peace. It wasn't just about avoiding conversation—it was about the ease of being unnoticed. A part of the world, but not part of it. It was safer that way.

Then, a sound. A faint creak came from downstairs, breaking the silence. The front door, maybe? Dad was home. The noise wasn't unusual, but today, it felt sharper, more distinct. It wasn't the kind of sound that should catch attention, but something about it made the air feel a little thicker. The house settled around it, but the feeling lingered. It didn't fade right away.

Another noise came, this time from the bathroom. A tap running? A door creaking? The sounds blended into the stillness of the house, but something about them seemed… wrong. Not enough to call it an emergency, not enough to jump up in fear. But there was a nagging feeling, a curiosity, a pull to check. It was probably nothing. The house always creaked, always groaned. The air could almost be heard shifting. But something wasn't quite right.

A small decision. Just a quick check. Nothing big. Nothing urgent. But something stirred, and the urge to investigate grew stronger.

Maybe it wasn't nothing after all.

He stood up, walking slowly toward the hallway. The light switch was flipped, but nothing happened. The room stayed dark. A moment of hesitation. The house had old wiring, sure, but this wasn't normal. The usual flicker, the soft hum, was absent.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and switched on the flashlight. The glow cut through the darkness, illuminating the hall ahead, revealing the bathroom door slightly ajar, water flowing out. The creak of the door, almost too loud in the silence, echoed through the hall as he stepped closer.

He closes the door behind him, stopping the water from leaving.

The bathroom was a mess. The floor was flooded, water spreading from the direction of the toilet. But it wasn't right. The toilet was gone. The pipe that should've connected it to the floor ran empty, water rushing out in a steady stream. The tile around the missing toilet was slick and wet, and a cold shiver ran down his spine. There was no reason for the toilet to be gone. No reason for the water to be there. It wasn't just a broken pipe or a simple leak.

The light from his phone illuminated the rest of the bathroom. He froze.

There was something in the room with him.

A figure, tall and unnaturally still, stood in the corner. Cloaked in red armor, the kind that seemed too smooth, too flawless, as if it had been shaped by something other than human hands. The light from the phone flickered across the surface of the armor, reflecting back something dark—something unseeable, but undeniably present. The eyes weren't eyes, just smooth blackness where they should've been. No openings, no pupils, just a void. And still, the figure stood there, unmoving, as if it was waiting for something.

He wanted to run. He wanted to scream. But his body wouldn't move. His feet were frozen to the floor, rooted in place by the horror of what he was seeing.

The figure didn't move toward him at first. It remained stationary, as if it didn't notice him—or perhaps, didn't care. It slowly turned, as though examining the room, taking in the water flooding the floor. The creature's focus was entirely on the space around it, a deliberate calmness that seemed to draw everything else into the background.

Then, it made a move that sent his heart racing.

The figure bent down, not as though it were being cautious, but with purpose, as if it knew exactly what it was doing. It raised one arm, and from its wrist, a strange purple goo began to flow. The goo spilled out in thick strands, slowly forming a square shape on the bathroom floor.

He couldn't tear his eyes away. The goo pulsed with an eerie energy, like it was alive. The strange substance began to spread, slowly seeping into the bathroom tile. It was unnatural, too precise.

What was it doing? What was happening?

The boy's thoughts raced, his body still frozen. The creature moved again, its arm lifting, and in an instant, a shower head, one that had been knocked off its hook, flew through the air and disappeared into the goo. The substance swallowed the object in an instant, and with a violent pulse, the goo shrank back, vanishing into thin air, dragging the tile along with it.

The water stopped flowing.

The figure didn't seem to notice the boy. It stood up, its focus shifting once more. With another flick of its wrist, the goo spread out, filling the doorway and sealing it completely. No door. No way out.

The boy wanted to run. His instincts screamed at him to get away, to leave, to find somewhere safe. But his legs refused to move. Every part of him was still, trapped in a moment of pure confusion and fear.

And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the creature stepped into the goo. It didn't walk through it—it disappeared into it, as though the goo had swallowed it whole, pulling it in until it was gone.

He was left alone in the bathroom, the air thick with the remnants of the creature's presence, the sound of the water having ceased. It was only then that he realized what had been stolen—what had disappeared. It wasn't just the toilet, or the tiles. The very space around him felt… wrong. Like it had shifted in a way he couldn't explain.

He wasn't where he had been just moments ago. He wasn't even sure where he was anymore.

Fear and confusion twisted together in his chest, but something else tugged at him. An unfamiliar pull.

What was happening? What had just happened?

Looking around, he finally saw the grass. It stretched out beyond the doorway where the hallway should have been, its vivid green blades swaying in the hot breeze. It was the same grass he had seen outside his window earlier—nothing too strange about that. Except now it was here, out of his bathroom.

He blinked.

His heart raced. The room had changed. No—he had changed. Had the house just disappeared? The thought flitted across his mind, and before he could stop himself, his feet took him forward, crossing the threshold of the doorway and into the unfamiliar world beyond.

He stepped into the grass, its coolness brushing against his bare feet, and for a moment, there was only the strange warmth of the air and the oppressive silence that surrounded him.

The house was gone. He couldn't see it, couldn't hear anything. No walls, no ceiling. Just the endless grass stretching in every direction. There was nothing familiar anymore. Nothing that made sense.

The weight of the situation hit him all at once. His heart pounded in his chest. What had he just done?

He had to get back. He turned around, desperate to find the bathroom, the door, anything that would lead him back to where he had been. But the door was gone. The walls were gone. The bathroom was gone. The only thing that remained was the unrelenting grass, the vast, empty field.

His legs felt weak, and the panic surged inside him like a tidal wave. He stumbled back a few steps, looking frantically around. The world was too quiet. Too still. He was alone.

A horrible realization began to take hold, but he couldn't quite bring himself to accept it.

The bathroom… it wasn't there.

The boy froze, the dread spreading from his chest to his limbs, freezing him in place. There was no way back. The door he had walked through had vanished. It wasn't a dream, a prank, or a trick of his mind. It was real. He had stepped into something else, something unknown.

And there was no going back.

The boy was too consumed by panic to understand what had actually happened. His mind was racing, too frantic to notice the subtle truth of his situation. The house hadn't disappeared. It hadn't been swallowed by some alternate dimension or transported to another world. No. The house was still there, right where it had always been, untouched and unchanged.

What had really happened was much simpler, and far worse. The boy had walked through a portal, thinking it was just a doorway, and when he crossed, it had closed behind him, leaving him trapped.

It was too much for him to comprehend at that moment. His thoughts tangled in confusion and fear, but the reality was clear: he wasn't somewhere else. The world hadn't shifted around him. He had stepped through something, and now there was no way back.

The portal was closed, and with it, any chance of returning home.

He was stuck.