The forest has no end.
I thought I understood that when I ran through Hollow Pines, when I fought the Watchers along the river, when I faced the hallucinations. I was wrong.
The edge doesn't exist. Not really. The forest only pretends. It gives you glimpses — fog-thinings, sunrises, shallow clearings — to lure you into thinking there's a way out. To lure you into letting your guard down.
And I almost did.
---
I stumbled through a narrow corridor of twisted trees, the river now a distant murmur behind me. My legs were bruised, raw, and shaking. My mind was a fog of exhaustion and terror. I kept repeating it aloud, the mantra the journal had drilled into me: I am me. I am me. I am me.
The whispers followed, soft at first, then rising in a crescendo. My own voice echoed, doubled, tripled, distorted.
"Kyle… Ethan… Rachel… Mark… Play…"
I pressed my hands to my ears, screaming, trying to block it out. But it wasn't enough. Hollow Pines doesn't scream at you. It seeps into your mind, infects your thoughts, turns your own fears against you.
---
Then I saw it.
A mirror.
Not a reflection of myself — not really. The water of a small pond glimmered with unnatural clarity, and my image stared back at me, twisted, pale, eyes hollow. Behind it, shadowy figures gathered: Kyle, Rachel, Mark — their faces flickering in and out like static on a broken screen.
I wanted to run. I wanted to smash the reflection, destroy it. But something froze me.
It spoke. My own voice, distorted, hissed from the water. "You are ours. You are nothing without us. Join… play…"
I fell to my knees. Vomit rose in my throat. Every instinct screamed to obey, to collapse, to give in.
And then I remembered.
I am me.
I slammed my fist into the pond. The water shattered like glass, ripples flaring outward, distorting the figures. They screamed, shadows twisting, clawing at the surface, but the reflection no longer controlled me.
---
I ran.
Deeper into Hollow Pines. The forest itself fought me. Trees bent, roots tripped me, shadows darted in the corner of my vision. The whispers were deafening now, a cacophony of every voice I had ever known. Every insult, every lie, every moment of fear or guilt — it was all there, pressing on me, suffocating me.
I stumbled into a clearing. A single tree, massive, blackened. Its branches stretched toward the sky like skeletal hands. Beneath it, the ground was disturbed, flattened as if someone — or something — had been lying there.
And then I saw them.
The Watchers.
All of them. Dozens, maybe hundreds. Their eyes glimmered red in the pale light. Their faces twisted, constantly flickering between human and monstrous. Limbs bent in impossible angles. They didn't move forward. They didn't have to.
I could see the forest itself bending toward them. Trees leaning, mist thickening, shadows growing. The Watchers were the heart of Hollow Pines. And I was standing at the edge of their power.
---
I tried to speak. My voice cracked. "I… I am me! I am me!"
The forest laughed. A low, grinding sound that shook the ground beneath my feet. The whispers overlapped, forming words, threats, promises.
"You are ours. You cannot escape. You will play. You will belong."
I felt my mind waver. Despair clawed at me, memories of Rachel, Kyle, Mark, and Sarah — all lost, all gone, all gone because of me.
I sank to my knees. And then, a single thought anchored me:
I would not die here. I would not join them.
---
The Watchers approached. Slowly. But each step they took, I repeated my mantra: I am me. I am me. I am me.
The closer they came, the more the forest twisted, but I held on. I repeated my name, shouted it, screamed it into the void.
And then, something changed.
A faint glow appeared at the far edge of the clearing. Sunlight? No… not sunlight. Something… pure. Clean. Free. I didn't know what it was, but instinct told me: run toward it.
I bolted.
---
The forest fought every step. Branches grabbed, roots twisted, shadows darted across my path. The Watchers screeched, a horrifying, guttural sound that reverberated through my skull. I stumbled, fell, and crawled, clawing through mud and debris.
But I ran.
I didn't look back. I couldn't.
The glow grew brighter, a narrow corridor through the trees. Each step felt like moving through molasses, but I forced myself forward.
And then… I broke through.
---
The edge of Hollow Pines.
The mist thinned, the trees straightened, the shadows receded. The whispers faded. The air was clear, clean, real.
I collapsed, gasping, shaking, tears streaming down my face. I had survived. Somehow, I had survived.
But the forest hadn't let me go entirely.
From the treeline, I glimpsed a figure. Small, hunched, pale, grinning impossibly wide. Eyes black.
Rachel. Or not Rachel.
She watched. Waiting.
And I knew… I wasn't free.
Hollow Pines never lets go.
It waits. It collects. And one day, it will call me back.