The morning light made its way through the curtains, soft and golden, but it did nothing to soften the mood in the house.

  There was tension in the air.

  Aki could feel it — the way it clung to the walls before anyone had even spoken. Her room, dimly lit under the peaceful sky, felt still in the wrong kind of way. Not peaceful — suffocating. The kind of quiet that made your chest feel tight. The kind that warned you something was about to snap.

  And it did.

  Her mother’s voice sliced through the hallway, sharp and impatient.

  “Akio, can’t you get ready fast? We won’t be able to reach there by tomorrow at your speed.”

  Aki barely flinched. She’d expected it. Still, her stomach tensed.

  “I’m almost done,” she called back, lazily.

  It wasn’t true. Her clothes were still scattered across the bed — some half-packed, some not even touched. Her duffel bag lay unzipped, yawning open like a mouth ready to complain. She glanced at the clock. Technically, her mom was right. But that only made her more irritated.

  She heard footsteps outside her door, fast and familiar. Her mother entered the room a moment later, already fuming.

  “You haven’t even dressed up yet,” she snapped. “Can’t you see the time? You’re eighteen now and you still can’t take care of yourself?”

  Aki stared at her reflection in the mirror, unmoving. Her fingers hovered mid-motion, as if frozen between thoughts.

  Why today? Why always like this?

  “Mom,” she said, her voice rougher now, “at least don’t do this on my birthday.”

  “Then quit making me angry and do your work before you’re told,” her mother replied, her words stiff with barely-held temper. “It isn’t even chores. All you have to do is get ready. You can’t even do that?”

  Aki rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Yeah yeah, blah blah.”

  It wasn’t even whispered — just dropped into the air with a sarcasm that stung as much as it soothed her.

  From somewhere deeper in the house, her father’s voice joined in — heavier, worn.

  “Stop acting so arrogant, Aki. Why are you being so loud?”

  Aki turned from the mirror, pointing at herself in disbelief.

  “Me? Arrogant? Me, loud?”

  Her father stepped into the hallway, glaring now.

  “Stop answering back.”

  “Yeah, it’s my fault,” she mumbled, arms crossed tightly. “Whoever is loud, it’s Aki’s fault. Aki this, Aki that — always, always. Why do I even have to go, man? I could just stay home.”

  Her parents clearly heard her.

  “She’s started talking to herself again?” her mom said — half in shock, half in habit.

  Her dad didn’t hesitate. His voice rose now, sharp and direct.

  “Haven’t you gone mad? Should we take you to a hospital instead?”

  Aki didn’t flinch. Her reply came low and tired.

  “Yeah, take me to a psyche ward and let me stay there forever. At least I’d have some peace there.”

  She wasn’t yelling anymore. Just… done. The words dropped from her lips like bricks — heavy, final.

  Her mother’s tone turned accusatory, almost wounded.

  “So us taking care of you is making you uncomfortable? So now we’re the bad people?”

  “What?” Aki snapped, confusion and helplessness flooding her voice. “You’re listening to yourself, right? Does that even make any sense?”

  Her father cut in again, voice stern and worn thin.

  “Aki, behave yourself. And stop fighting, you two. We’ll be late at this rate.”

  “Have we ever reached early?” she muttered.

  He didn’t answer. Just stared. The silence that followed was louder than anything else.

  Another glare. Another deep breath. Another second she wished she could disappear.

  She didn’t say anything more. Just grabbed her bag, yanked open the door, and stepped out into the quiet outside.

  “Fine,” she said, not looking back. “I’m prepared. I’m going in the car.”

  Not because she was ready — she wasn’t. But because staying in that room, in that house, in that moment any longer... would’ve broken her more than any of their words ever could.

  The front door clicked shut behind her.

  Not the beginning of a happy trip they wanted.

  A few minutes passed before everyone had settled into the car. The air inside was stiff with leftover tension, but quieter now.

  Aki leaned against the window, arms crossed, eyes tracking the trees blurring by.

  Feeling a little frustrated, she muttered, “You always say I’m the one who’s late... but Mom, you’re always late aswell.”

  Her mother let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, because I was preparing. Packing snacks, clothes. What were you doing?”

  Aki just muttered in defeat, “Sure, sure,” and slid her earphones in, shutting out the world.

  For a while, only the hum of the road filled the car.

  Then, as if trying to patch the silence, her mom said with fake cheer,

  “It’s been ages since we’ve gone on a vacation together, hasn’t it? Last time, Akio had gone with Jiro instead.”

  A heavy pause followed. The air felt heavier, like something unspoken had slipped into the car.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Aki forced a smile.

  “Well… at least this time it’s just us.”

  Her dad chuckled as if to loosen the the mood. “You two really are enjoying yourselves, huh? Why wouldn’t you — I’m your personal driver now. Wherever your highness says, the car shall go there!”

  “Dad, stop being so silly,” Aki laughed, despite herself.

  “Well, it’s not a lie, is it?”

  Feeling a little lighter, she turned to the window. Something colorful flashed in her periphery.

  “Mom, look! That flower — it’s so pretty! Dad, stop the car! I want to take a closer look.” Her eyes lit up.

  Five seconds passed. Then ten. Then fifteen.

  The car didn’t slow.

  She straightened. “Why didn’t you stop?” she asked, confused.

  “I’m not your servant now, am I?” her dad replied flatly, not even looking back.

  Aki gave a weird gaze a response.

  “Stop it, both of you,” her mother snapped. “Starting again already? Let’s just enjoy the moment, alright? We don’t get to go on picnics every day.”

  “yes,” Aki and her father muttered in unison.

  “Exactly,” her mom said, firmly. “So don’t spoil the mood. Just enjoy the view.”

  Aki leaned her head back against the window.

  (I get it, I get it… but I’m really bored, man.)

  She stared at the trees flanking the road. Dense. Shadowy.

  Maybe we’ll see a bear or something. That would be fun. She said excitedly.

  “No,” her dad said automatically. “Can’t you see the signs? This is a no-danger zone.”

  “Boomer,” Aki muttered under her breath.

  “What did you say?”

  “Can I get some snacks?” she grinned.

  Outside, signs flashed past one by one.

  Welcome Back.

  Enjoy Your Stay.

  NO DANGER AREA.

  Then... something different. Scribbled in faded red beneath one sign:

  Aki blinked. Was that… real?

  She waited for another sign, but none came. After a few minutes, she slipped into a light nap.

  —

  Two hours later.

  “Are we there yet?” she yawned, groggy.

  Her mother turned around with a smile. “Oh, you’re awake? Here, have some snacks.”

  “Water,” Aki rasped. “My throat hurts.”

  After sipping, she stared back outside. Something about the trees felt... wrong.

  “Dad, look — there’s a weird creature out there. It looked really big. Kind of… lurking?”

  Her dad flinched. “Huh? Where?”

  “Stop disturbing your father,” her mom said sharply. “And you know she’s just making things up again.”

  “I’m not,” Aki said firmly. “I really saw something.”

  “Shut up, silly girl.”

  (Heh. I thought they’d actually fall for that.)

  (But seriously... that scribble was really strange.)

  She turned around. “Do you know what one of the signs said?”

  Neither parent answered. They didn’t even blink.

  “It said — INCOMING CREATURE. PLEASE DRIVE SAFELY.”

  Still nothing. Just the drone of tires against gravel.

  (Alright then... weirdos.)

  Time dragged. Another hour crawled by. Aki slumped in her seat.

  (Should I watch something?) She opened her phone — no signal.

  (Ugh. Fine. I’ll take some photos then.)

  She lazily snapped photos — trees, road, sunlight flickering through branches. Then switched to video.

  Halfway through the clip, she froze.

  There — at the very edge of the frame. A shape. Big. Black. Slime-like. It shimmered faintly, as if not fully real. It wasn’t walking. It floated.

  Her breath caught.

  “So goofy,” she whispered, but her voice shook just a little.

  “Mom,” she called out, holding up her phone. “I saw something weird.”

  “You’re starting again, aren’t you?” her mom said with a sigh.

  “No — just look. Seriously.”

  Her mother leaned over, frowned. “What? I don’t see anything.”

  “What? It was right—” Aki stared at the screen. The figure was gone.

  “Stop, Aki.”

  Aki giggled nervously. “Haha. Maybe I watch too many movies.”

  Still, she nudged her phone again. “At least look, Mom." She said half grinning half teasing.

  “Aki, I told you—”

  CRACK. Something snapped in the air.

  THUD. The car jolted violently, veering off the road.

  Aki’s laughter stopped mid-breath.

  Everything was spinning.

  Not like dizzy-spinning, but… slow. Heavy. Like her brain was floating behind her eyes.

  Aki blinked.

  She was still inside the car.

  The world outside was tilted. The trees weren’t standing straight anymore. The car was leaned on its side, half-crushed against something.

  Ringing. Loud. Constant.

  (Why is my head buzzing…? Why is everything tilted?)

  Her heart was pounding now. Throat dry. Fingers cold.

  (Wait… wait, were we in the air just now? Falling? Why were we falling?!)

  Her voice came out suddenly. Loud. Croaky.

  “AHHHHHHHHHH! WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”

  It echoed. No reply.

  Aki’s mouth felt like it was full of metal. Her body was stiff. Chest tight. Her hands shook as she moved.

  “Ow—what the—ugh…” She groaned, pushing herself up just slightly. Her seatbelt was still across her chest. Everything ached.

  She looked forward.

  The windshield was cracked. Glass scattered everywhere. Her dad’s head was slumped slightly. Her mom’s hair was covering half her face.

  “M-Mom…? Dad…?”

  Nothing.

  Tears started sliding down before she even realized she was crying.

  (No. No no no no—what should I do? What should I do?! Should I stay here? Should I scream? Is anyone even gonna come?!)

  “Think, Aki. Think. I shouldn’t just sit here.”

  Her eyes darted around the car. The side window near her had a crack. A big one.

  (Okay. I can break that. Just… find something heavy. Anything. Where’s my bag—wait no, where’s something metal? Anything?)

  She couldn’t see anything solid nearby.

  “…Seriously?”

  She clenched her teeth, pulled her sleeve down over her hand, and punched the glass.

  It didn’t break.

  “Ugh, damn it.”

  She hit it again. And again. Her knuckles felt hot. Sharp.

  No use.

  In frustration, she slammed her forehead into it. Once. Twice.

  A sharp crack — not from the glass, but from somewhere in her skull. A small trickle of blood traced down her eyebrow.

  She slumped back, panting.

  (Great. Now I’m bleeding too.)

  She wiped at her face. Her sleeve came back red.

  (No... not yet. Don’t black out. Not now.)

  She took a breath. Then another.

  “Okay okay okay—focus, just think—Dad’s tools. Where does he keep them?” Her eyes widened. “Back seat. Under the seat. Of course.”

  She turned and shoved her hand under the back seat.

  Felt the box.

  Pulled.

  It didn’t move.

  “Oh come ON. Why did you screw it down like a vault, Dad?!”

  She tugged again. Kicked the side. Nothing.

  Out of frustration, she hit the window again with her palm. It ached.

  Then she froze. And helplessly whispered:

  “Help. Please. Somebody… please…”

  “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to distract them. This is my fault. Isn’t it?”

  The guilt twisted in her gut like a knife.

  “No… no. I can’t think like that. I need to focus. Focus.”

  She clenched her fists.

  “Yeah. I deserve this.”

  “No. No, shut up. Not now. Don’t fall apart now.”

  Her eyes flicked to the dashboard.

  (Screwdriver. Please please please just be there.)

  She crawled forward, grabbing the glovebox. Her hand shook as she pulled it open.

  And there it was.

  A screwdriver.

  Aki let out a weird, breathy laugh. “Yes. Oh my god. Yes.”

  She slid back to the seat and jammed the screwdriver into the screws holding the toolbox.

  The car shifted slightly. It made her flinch. But she didn’t stop.

  One screw. Two. Her fingers slipped. Her blood made the handle slick. She wiped it on her pants.

  Her patience wearing thin by every passing second.

  Finally The lid came off.

  Inside — a hammer.

  She didn’t even smile.

  Just grabbed it. Raised it. And hit the glass.

  THUNK.

  Again.

  THUNK.

  Crack.

  She gave one final slam — and it burst.

  Air rushed in. Cold and damp.

  She tossed the hammer, pushed at the broken edge, cleared what she could.

  Then dragged herself out.

  Glass cut her sleeves. Her knee scraped the gravel. Her hair caught on a sharp edge.

  But she got out.

  She stumbled onto the forest ground. Dirt. Broken twigs. Her palms hit the earth.

  She sat there for a second.

  Breathing.

  Crying

  Bleeding.

  But most importantly Alive.

  The car behind her creaked, tilted slightly. Her parents were still inside.

  She breathed heavily. Scanning the area.

  A sudden realisation dawned her.“I need to get my parents out too. Please… please God, give me strength.”

  She tried to move, but her arms felt weak.

  “Wait… why can’t I feel my hands?”

  She looked down. Blood stained her jeans. Her legs were cut up — not deep, but bad enough. The pain hadn’t even caught up to her yet.

  Panic bloomed in her chest.

  “I should ask for help. Someone must be nearby.”

  She said, while looking at a deserted area.

  Not losing hope she screamed.

  “HELP! Somebody please—HELP! Is someone here?! Hel—”

  A sudden force cut her off. A hand clamped over her mouth, tight and unshaking.

  Her eyes widened. She tried to thrash, but her body was too sore, too drained.

  A red-haired guy held her still, face unreadable, eyes scanning the woods.

  (I can’t breathe. Who is this? Why’s he stopping me from yelling?)

  (Wait… if he doesn’t want me to call for help… does that mean he’s dangerous?)

  She panicked inside.

  (Should I bite him? Try to run? No, I can’t even feel my legs properly. What should I do? What if I… just stop struggling? It is the best option I have.)

  She went still. Softened her muscles.

  He waited a second, then released her.

  Stranger (calm, sharp): “Stop yelling. You’re making it disappear faster. It’s already hard enough to catch it. Don’t make any sound.”

  Aki blinked.

  (Disappear? What? Who’s ‘it’?)

  She didn’t speak. Just nodded slightly.

  (I shouldn’t trust him. He has a gun. What if he kills me? I can’t run, and I can’t fight. Just… stay quiet. For now.)

  Second after he ran to the deeper end of the forest taking her bloody hammer with him.

  Relived for a second. But then her eyes turned back to the wrecked car.

  Aki: “I need to help my parents…”

  Ignoring the pain. She rushed toward the passenger side where her mother’s body was halfway slumped out.

  “Mom? I’m here. I’ll get you out.”

  She tried pulling her — no use. The leg was wedged deep, stuck under twisted metal.

  (It’s stuck. Really stuck. What do I do? Cut it off? No — no, no, that’s insane.)

  Her heart pounded.

  (But I have to do something. I can’t wait for help. What if they’re dying right now? The phone’s useless. That guy’s gone. And he even took my hammer…)

  She looked around desperately.

  A heavy rock caught her eye. Nearby.

  She staggered toward it, grabbed it with both shaking hands, and came back to her mom’s side.

  (I don’t have time to panic. Just… try.)

  She lifted the rock.

  Thud.

  Blood sprayed.

  Thud.

  Her hands slipped, her arms trembling. It wasn’t working. The metal barely bent.

  Her breaths came shorter. Her vision swam.

  And then — she smiled. A strange, cracked smile.

  Aki: “I’m only doing this to save her. That’s it. Just trying to help…”

  (What if the car explodes… if I wait too long… this is better, right?)

  But her mother’s leg… it wasn’t coming loose. It was worse now. Crushed. Torn.

  Tears started trickling down. With no hope left. She dropped the rock.

  Her body gave out.

  Aki collapsed beside the car, face tilted toward the dirt. Her arms throbbed. Her head was spinning.

  (It’s been an hour. Or maybe more. I can’t move. The pain’s dull now, like my body gave up trying to warn me. Even the flies are crawling on me, like I’m already gone.)

  Then… something moved.

  Aki opened one eye.

  Far ahead, in the trees — a shape. A person. No — two shapes.

  The red-haired man — and something else.

  Black. Slime-like. Towering. Floating slightly above the ground.

  He was fighting it.

  And something in the air cracked — like reality itself was peeling open.