I didn't go home that night.
I stayed under the overpass near the train station.
The sound of wheels grinding against metal lulled me to sleep.
And in that sleep, I saw the house again.
But it was different now.
Bigger.
Longer.
It had too many windows.
But none of them opened.
I was inside.
Barefoot.
The walls were crooked, leaning inward like they wanted to collapse.
The ceiling above me stretched high—so high, it disappeared into shadows.
And no one… no one ever looked up.
There were people in the house.
Strangers.
Some had no mouths.
Some wore masks.
Some just stared at their hands like they were trying to remember who they were.
I walked past them.
No one saw me.
No one spoke.
Lucas walked beside me.
Same height. Same eyes.
He wasn't smiling.
He looked… tired.
Like he had been there longer than I had.
"They don't look up," he said.
I asked why.
"Because they're afraid of what's watching."
We climbed the stairs.
Each step creaked like a scream.
On the third floor, we found a door.
It was red.
Unlabeled.
Locked.
Lucas pulled a key from his pocket.
I didn't ask how he had it.
Inside was a room.
Just one chair.
And a mirror facing the wall.
He sat.
Gestured for me to turn the mirror around.
I hesitated.
My fingers trembled.
But I did it.
And when the glass faced us, I saw only him.
Not me.
Not a reflection.
Just Lucas.
Alone in the chair.
Bleeding from the mouth.
Eyes wide with fear.
He looked at me and whispered:
"You left me here."
I woke up gasping.
Back in the real world.
Under cold concrete.
My hands were gripping the edge of the curb like I was holding on for dear life.
When I got home the next morning, no one asked where I'd been.
No lecture.
No crying.
Just silence.
And eggs on a plate.
I stared at them.
Remembered the taste of powdered eggs in the attic.
Lukewarm. Barely seasoned.
But made with care.
"Eat before it gets cold," my mother said.
I nodded.
But didn't touch the fork.
Lucas spoke again.
Not from the corner of my head.
But from inside my chest.
"You're still in the house."
"The one where no one looks up."
And I realized…
Maybe I never left.
Maybe I never will.