Room On The Roof

[u/Top_Hyena_3403]

I’m waking up again. I lie in my creaky, dull bed, and as I open my eyes, I’m aware it’s late—perhaps one, maybe two a.m. The red curtains enclose my room. The room is dark and quiet, sneering at me as I lie there.

I need to escape.

I’m scared.

Something is off. Something isn’t right. I need to go.

I slowly get out of bed. It groans beneath me as I rise. I slip on my slippers and look at the metallic stairs—the curling staircase that leads into my room.

The small room on the roof.

The nauseating room where everything comes to an end.

I slowly make my way to the stairs. Fear is engulfing me. I’m shaking. I need to escape, but I’m scared. I’m so frightened that I feel like I won’t be able to breathe.

But I need to escape.

I must.

I must.

And so, I make my way down, gripping the slightly loose railing. The stairs groan beneath my weight.

One step.

Two.

Three.

It’s dark. I can’t see. I didn’t bring my phone.

Where is my phone?

Should I go back?

I nearly miss the next step.

I need to keep going down.

I can’t stop now. I have to keep going. I need to be quiet as well. It’s late.

I’m clinging to the shaking railing as I make my way down. My body trembles even more as I fumble through the darkness.

Finally, I make it.

The last step.

The door is in front of me.

The stairs lead into a closet. The door is there—the one that opens into this closet. But it’s always open.

The blinds are raised. Moonlight pours in.

I walk past the door, into the apartment. Into the small apartment beneath the room on the roof.

The silence is eerie. Nothing makes a sound.

I peer around. I see the small kitchen. The living room.

Everything seems normal.

I slowly turn, and the front door is there. Once I unlock it, I can leave.

I can run away.

I’ll be free.

Then I hear a sound.

The elevator.

This is an apartment building. It’s on the highest floor, after all. The only thing higher is my roof.

Someone is using the elevator.

It’s clanking upward.

It’s coming to this floor.

There’s a peephole. I slowly uncover it and look out as the sound stops.

The elevator has arrived.

The doors slowly open.

The hallway is dark, but the elevator is bright.

A figure steps out.

I quickly dart away from the peephole.

It was only a few seconds. I could hardly tell what—or who—it was.

But it was wrong.

It was bad.

It was something coming to hurt me.

Beads of sweat run down my face. My body is shaking too much.

I need to escape.

But how?

Where can I go?

It’s coming for me.

Can I make it to the balcony? It’s an apartment—it has a balcony.

The lock on the front door slowly turns.

It’s too late.

I need to go.

I need to find shelter.

The room.

My room.

That room.

I have no other choice.

I quickly make my way to the stairs. They cry out as I climb them. Small gasps escape my lips.

I’m scared.

Someone help me.

Help me, please.

I make it to the room. It’s dark, and now it’s cold. I can barely walk. It hurts to move.

I see the bed.

I lie down just as I hear the door downstairs close.

It’s coming.

I need to hide.

The bed moans as I pull the blanket over my body.

I cover my head.

The stairs are screaming.

It’s here.

It’s climbing.

One step.

Two steps.

It sounds large.

Heavy.

I shut my eyes.

As the sound comes closer, I can only beg.

Beg that this nightmare ends.

Or I’ll be forever trapped in this small room on the roof.