The river didn't just flow.
It consumed.
Its dark waters swallowed the forest's reflections, twisting everything I saw into something grotesque and unrecognizable. Every ripple seemed to shift into faces — screaming, grinning, pleading, mocking.
I stumbled along its bank, barefoot now, boots lost days ago, mud sucking at my heels, roots snagging my fingers. The whispers followed me, faint but constant, carried by the mist rising off the water. "Ethan… come… play…"
I gritted my teeth. I wouldn't. Not now. Not ever.
---
The journal had promised an exit — some place where the Watchers' influence weakened. I had no idea if it was true, but it was all I had. I pressed forward, upstream, following the river as best I could.
The trees here were different. Gnarled, twisted, like they were trying to block my path. Shadows clung to the roots, moving as though they had life. I kept my eyes on the river, the journal clutched in my hands like a lifeline.
And then I saw it.
A figure.
Half-submerged, staring at me from the water. Hair plastered to a pale, twisted face. Eyes glowing faint red. Mouth moving silently.
Rachel.
I froze. Heart hammering. My voice caught in my throat. "Rachel?"
Her eyes locked on mine, unblinking. Then she tilted her head. Slowly, deliberately, smiling.
Not her. Not Rachel.
---
I ran.
The river bank gave way to mud, pulling at my feet. My hands clawed at roots, trees, anything to keep from falling. But the forest was alive — twisting, bending, mocking.
And then the first direct attack came.
A shadow leapt from the treeline, taller than a man, limbs bent at impossible angles. It moved like water, fluid, unstoppable. It grabbed at me, fingers like claws, cold and heavy. I yelped, twisting, pulling, but it followed me relentlessly.
I hit it with a branch, breaking it over its head. It paused for a fraction of a second. That fraction saved me.
I sprinted toward the river.
---
The water was freezing. Pain shot through my legs as I plunged in, but I didn't care. The current carried me downstream, faster than I could run, faster than I could think. Branches scratched at my face, rocks bruised my shins, but I kept going.
And then the hallucinations started.
Faces in the water. Friends I had lost. Kyle. Sarah. Mark. Rachel. They screamed at me, accused me, called me weak, called me a traitor.
I tried to shout, but the water swallowed my voice. Tried to swim, but the river seemed endless.
And yet… I kept going.
---
Hours passed. I don't know how many. Time in Hollow Pines was meaningless. The sun dipped low, the fog thickened, and the forest seemed to close in on me.
And then I saw them — the Watchers, on the riverbank.
They didn't move. They just watched, red eyes glowing, faces flickering between human and monster. Limbs twisting impossibly.
I knew I had to confront them.
"I am me!" I shouted, voice breaking. "I am not yours! I will survive!"
For a moment, everything froze. The water, the trees, even the mist seemed to hold its breath.
Then they advanced.
---
The fight wasn't physical. Not really.
It was mental. Every step they took, every shape they twisted into, every whisper that slithered into my mind was a test. Fear, guilt, doubt — they pressed against me, tried to shatter my resolve.
I clutched the journal, reading aloud, stumbling over the words. "Face them. Do not run. Name yourself. Remember yourself."
I screamed. "I AM ETHAN! I AM ME!"
The river boiled around me. Shadows shrieked. Trees groaned. And then… silence.
The Watchers paused.
---
I kept moving, dragging myself through the mud and water, following the river. The hallucinations continued — fleeting glimpses of Rachel, Kyle, Mark — but I ignored them. Every time I shouted, I AM ME, the images dissolved.
Finally, I stumbled into a small inlet. Water pooled, calm, almost peaceful. The mist thinned. The whispers receded.
I collapsed onto the bank, shaking, trembling, covered in mud and blood, gasping for air.
For the first time in days, I thought… maybe I survived.
---
But Hollow Pines doesn't forgive.
From the treeline, a figure emerged. Small, hunched. Pale skin, hair like wet strings. A grin that stretched impossibly wide. Eyes black and endless.
Rachel. Or not Rachel.
She stepped forward, slow, deliberate.
"You think you've won?" she hissed. "You can't escape. You're ours."
I scrambled backward, clutching the journal like a weapon. "I… I'll survive. I'll keep going."
She tilted her head. "We'll see."
The mist closed in again, swallowing her figure.
And the river of shadows continued downstream, endless, eternal, pulling me forward into the unknown.