Labyrinth: Stranded The Series (bxb)

Breaking the Cycle

(Joshua's POV)

The air in the labyrinth feels different. Heavier. Like it's closing in on me, pressing down on my chest until I can barely breathe. The walls shift again, the fog swirling like it's alive, and I know what's coming. I can feel it crawling up the back of my neck—the memories, the shit I've been trying to bury for years. It's all coming back, like the labyrinth is ripping it out of me, feeding on every dark corner of my mind.

I don't know how long Dillon and I have been in here—hours, days? Time doesn't mean shit anymore. The only thing that's real is the constant feeling of dread, the weight of the memories that won't stop flooding back, each one worse than the last. My brother. My mom. My sister. It's all here, playing out in front of me like some twisted movie I can't turn off.

But this time, I'm not alone.

Dillon's here, standing right next to me, his presence steady, even though I know he's scared too. I can feel it in the way his breath hitches every time the shadows shift, in the way his hand twitches like he's ready to fight even though there's nothing to punch. But he's here. And that's what's keeping me grounded.

The fog thickens, and suddenly, I'm not in the labyrinth anymore.

I'm in my old house. The house. The one I grew up in. The one where everything fell apart. The air smells like burnt toast and stale beer, and I hear the sound of the TV in the background, the volume cranked up way too high. It's familiar, too familiar, and my stomach twists with a feeling I haven't had in years—dread.

Marcus is there, my brother, sitting on the couch, his wrists cuffed in front of him. The cop standing beside him doesn't even look surprised. This isn't the first time Marcus has been arrested, and it won't be the last. My mom's in the corner, wringing her hands, her voice shaking as she makes excuses for him, telling the cop it's not his fault, that he's a good boy, that he just needs a break.

I'm standing in the doorway, watching it all play out, just like I did back then. And I feel it all over again—the anger, the resentment, the way my heart ached because no matter what I did, I was invisible. It was always about Marcus. Always.

"Joshua?" Dillon's voice pulls me back to the present, cutting through the memory like a blade.

I blink, the vision of my old house flickering like static on a TV screen, but it doesn't disappear. It's still there, playing in front of me like it's real, like it's happening all over again. But Dillon's hand is on my shoulder, grounding me. His touch is warm, solid, and it keeps me from falling too far into the nightmare.

"I... I don't want to see this," I mutter, my voice shaking. "I don't want to fucking deal with this."

Dillon doesn't say anything, but he doesn't let go either. He stands there with me, his hand firm on my shoulder, like he's reminding me that I'm not alone. I never realized how much I needed that—someone just being there. It feels foreign, almost wrong, but at the same time, it's the only thing keeping me from breaking down.

The memory shifts, the walls of the house warping, twisting like the labyrinth itself is inside my head. The scene changes, and now it's my sister. Elena. She's screaming, drunk, stumbling through the living room, cursing at her latest boyfriend—or baby daddy, whatever. I can hear her slurred words, the venom in her voice, and I feel that familiar mix of frustration and helplessness rise up in my chest.

"You never helped," her voice echoes in my head. "You just watched us all fall apart, didn't you? Didn't you, Joshua?"

I clench my fists, the anger boiling over. I want to shout back at her, tell her it wasn't my fault, that I did what I could, that I was just a kid trying to survive in the middle of all their shit. But the words don't come. They never do.

"I can't... I can't do this," I whisper, my breath catching in my throat. "It's too much."

Dillon steps closer, his voice low but steady. "You don't have to do it alone."

Those words hit me harder than any punch ever could. They sink into my chest, deep, like a truth I've been running from for so long. I've always thought I had to carry this shit by myself. That I couldn't let anyone in because it was my burden to bear. But standing here, with Dillon beside me, I realize something I've been too scared to admit.

I don't have to do this alone.

I turn to look at him, and the expression on his face isn't pity. It's not sympathy or judgment. It's just... him. He's here, with me, in this nightmare, and for some reason, that makes all the difference.

"Joshua," he says again, his voice softer now. "Whatever this place is showing you, it's trying to tear you apart. But you don't have to let it."

His words settle into my chest, calming the storm inside me just a little. I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. The visions of my family are still there, still swirling around us, but they feel... distant now. Less real. Like maybe they don't have as much power over me as I thought.

"I've spent my whole life trying to run from this," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "From them. From all of it."

Dillon's hand tightens on my shoulder. "You don't have to run anymore."

I don't know why, but something about the way he says it makes the walls of the labyrinth feel less claustrophobic. It's like a switch flips in my head, and I realize that the only power these memories have over me is the power I've been giving them.

I turn back to the vision of my family, watching them argue, scream, and fall apart like they always do. But this time, I don't feel that crushing weight on my chest. This time, I'm not a kid, standing in the corner, helpless and angry. I'm not alone.

"I don't have to carry this anymore," I say, the words feeling strange but right.

Dillon doesn't say anything, but I can feel his presence beside me, solid and reassuring. And for the first time, I believe it.

The vision flickers again, the walls of the house cracking, crumbling like it's being torn apart. The memories are fading, breaking down, and I feel a strange sense of peace settle over me. It's not perfect, but it's something.

I take one last look at my family—at the mess they've made of their lives—and then I turn away. I'm done letting them control me.

The labyrinth shifts again, the walls moving, but this time it feels different. Less hostile. Like maybe, just maybe, we've broken its hold on us.

Dillon steps in front of me, his eyes searching mine. "Are you okay?"

I nod, even though my heart's still racing. "Yeah... I think I am."

He gives me a small smile, and for a moment, the fear and chaos of the labyrinth fades into the background. It's just us, standing here together, and I realize something I never thought I'd admit.

I need him. More than I've ever needed anyone.

And maybe that's okay.

We start walking again, side by side, the walls of the labyrinth still shifting around us, but now there's a sense of direction. Like we've taken control, like we're not just wandering anymore.

As we move forward, I glance over at Dillon, and for the first time, I let myself feel everything. The fear, the anger, the attraction. It's all there, tangled up in a mess I don't fully understand yet. But I don't have to figure it out right now.

For now, I'm just grateful I don't have to face it alone.