Vanishing

Nate and I had been together for about a year, and we were always looking for something new to do. One Saturday, we saw a new escape room open in Oak Hollow. It was called The Vanishing, and the ad claimed it was inspired by local history. We thought it sounded interesting, especially since we'd done a few escape rooms before.

We walked into the building. It was small, tucked between two rundown shops, and the door creaked when we pushed it open. The guy behind the counter was older, probably in his mid-50s, with an odd, distracted look in his eyes. He smiled and greeted us like we were regulars, though we'd never been there before.

"Welcome," he said. "I think you're going to enjoy The Vanishing. When you're ready, I’ll show you to the room."

We nodded, both feeling a little unsure. But we didn’t think much of it. We followed him down a narrow hallway, past a couple of unmarked doors. At the end, he opened a door to a small, dark room with a few old chairs, a desk, and some dusty books on a shelf. The walls were bare except for a framed mirror, and there was a weird smell in the air, but we’d been in escape rooms like this before—nothing out of the ordinary.

He handed us a piece of paper. "Here are the instructions. Solve the puzzles, unlock the secrets, and escape before time runs out. And remember, nothing is what it seems." His smile lingered a little too long, but I thought maybe it was just a part of the act. They were always in character at these places, right?

The door clicked shut behind us, and we were alone.

I wandered around the room, my eyes landing on a desk drawer slightly ajar. I opened it without thinking. Inside were a few odd trinkets, old keys, and a stack of letters tied together with a faded red ribbon. I picked up the first letter, and something hit me in the chest when I saw who it was from.

It was from me to Nate. A letter I had written when we first started dating.

“Nate, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m excited to find out. I hope this is the start of something good.”

I blinked. This wasn’t possible.

“What’s up?” Nate asked, coming over to look at the letter in my hand.

I showed it to him, trying to keep my voice steady. “This is from me. I wrote it when we first got together.”

He frowned and took it from me. “That’s... strange. Why would it be here?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, Nate."

I pulled out another letter. It was from Nate to me.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I feel like I’ve known you forever, and I just hope I’m not rushing into this. I hope I’m not messing things up.”

My stomach dropped. My hands were shaking as I went through the stack. More letters. Some from me, some from him. Each one from the early days of our relationship. Real, personal letters. No puzzles, no hints, just our own words.

The last letter was different. I opened it slowly, the paper old and brittle, as if it had been handled many times before.

“Nate, sometimes I feel like we’re being watched. Like we’re being pulled into something we can’t control. I don’t know what it is, but it scares me. I can’t explain it, but I need to feel safe with you. I need you to tell me we’re going to be okay.”

I stared at the words, confusion sinking in. “I didn’t write this. I don’t even remember thinking this.”

Nate was quiet for a long time. I turned to look at him, and his face had gone pale.

“What is going on?” I asked, but there was a tightness in his voice when he answered.

“I... I don’t know. This doesn’t make sense.”

I opened the drawer again, almost frantically, hoping to find some explanation. That’s when I saw it—a crumpled piece of newspaper in the back. I pulled it out, heart racing.

The headline read: "Couple Vanishes After Visiting Local Escape Room. Police Have No Leads."

My hands froze. I looked at the photo under the headline. The couple in the picture... they looked exactly like us. The same hair, the same smiles. It was uncanny.

“This is a mistake,” Nate muttered, his voice thick.

I turned the paper over. There was a note scrawled on the back in a hurried, messy handwriting: “You’re next.”

I dropped the paper, and that’s when I heard it. The soft click of a door unlocking.

I whipped around. The door we came through was open.

I turned back to Nate. “What’s this? What's going on?”

Nate was standing still, staring at me, his face hardening. For a moment, I thought I saw something cold in his eyes.

He walked slowly toward the door, his steps echoing in the small space. I followed, but something was wrong. The air felt heavier now, and a knot twisted in my stomach.

“You know,” Nate said, his voice quiet, “this was always going to be the way it ended”

I froze. “Nate, what are you talking about?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he he slowly reached for the handle. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice almost apologetic.

I took a step back, my heart hammering in my chest. “Nate—what are you—?”

The door clicked again as he locked it from the outside.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

His face pressed against the small window in the door, his eyes meeting mine. “You were always going to be part of this. We all are.”

And then, he disappeared, leaving me alone in the dark room, the sound of his footsteps fading away.

I glanced around the room. The letters, the photo, the note. The reality of the situation rushing over me. A tidal wave of fear and panic.

I was never leaving.

And I wasn't the first....