Kyle bursts through the last line of trees—
—back into the open world.
Birds chirp.
Cars idle.
Life continues.
It shouldn’t.
He stumbles across the grass, breath ragged, eyes darting.
Nothing chases him.
Nothing follows.
That’s worse.
He slows near the fence separating the apartments from the ravine.
He turns back.
From here, the thicket looks harmless.
Just trees. Just brush.
No smoke. No movement.
No tunnels visible from this angle.
Kyle grips the fence, steadying himself.
His hands shake.
He pulls out his phone.
Missed calls.
No new messages.
He dials.
It rings.
Straight to voicemail.
Kyle hangs up.
Dials again.
Same result.
His jaw tightens.
He looks back once more—
At the tree line.
At the invisible sun boundary he doesn’t understand.
Kyle backs away.
_____
[APARTMENT LAUNDRY ROOM – MORNING]
_____
The room is unchanged.
Washers hum.
Dryers thump.
The caged TV flickers static and morning news.
Kyle steps inside slowly.
The normal sounds feel too loud.
He scans the room.
Trash cans.
Machines.
Empty benches.
No Lolita.
Kyle sinks onto the same dryer he sat on earlier.
The weight of it hits him now.
He presses his palms to his face.
Forces air into his lungs.
He dials a familiar number
She hesitates—
Then answers.
Aunt Maggie (curious, raised brow):
“Hello?”
She knows this sound.
Familiar breathing.
AUNT MAGGIE (a little concerned):
“Kyle?”
Relief flashes across his face—
Then guilt.
KYLE:
“Aunt Maggie… I - I was gonna call— for your birthday”
AUNT MAGGIE (thinking Kyle hasn't been himself since his Dad passed):
“I know, it's okay---
You're breathing hard. Went for a jog?”
Kyle looks at the laundry room door.
At the thin glass window.
At the morning light beyond it.
KYLE (low, more quiet than usual):
“I think… something happened.”
Silence on the line. Not disbelief.
Attention.
AUNT MAGGIE (reserved concern in her voice):
“Where are you?”
Kyle swallows.
KYLE:
“At the apartments.”
Another pause.
Lower now.
Serious.
AUNT MAGGIE:
“Is it Rod and your mom?”
Kyle frowns.
KYLE:
“No… it's worse.”
The line crackles.
AUNT MAGGIE (in the mom suit):
“What is it, Kyle—you know you can tell me.”
Kyle glances at the door again.
At the direction of the THICKET.
Past the wooded area.
Towards the tunnels.
He was wondering how much to tell her.
KYLE (hesitant, not wanting to seem crazy):
“My girlfriend is missing.”
That jars Maggie. Especially being on a Special Ops team already investigating Missing Persons. That JARS Maggie BIG TIME.
AUNT MAGGIE:
“Kyle… listen very carefully—”
The laundry room door CREAKS as it opens.
Kyle flinches.
He whips around to look— his body taut with tension, ready to defend himself.
A neighbor hauling a basket of clothes.
Normal.
Mundane.
Kyle exhales.
Turns away from the door.
KYLE (quickly, under his breath):
“I’ll call you back.”
AUNT MAGGIE:
“Kyle, wait—”
He hangs up.
The room hums on.
Kyle sits there, surrounded by life continuing—
Knowing something underneath it has shifted.
Feeling like it isn’t done.