The Hidden City

Chapter 5: The Gate

In the suffocating darkness, Matt lay under the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. The air felt thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe. He clutched a knife tightly in his hand, its cold metal biting into his palm. He had been told to stay hidden, to wait, but the silence around him was deafening, and fear crept in like a shadow.

The room stretched on in endless darkness. He couldn't remember how long he had been there, hiding, waiting. His mother's voice echoed in his mind—Stay here. Don't come out until I come back. But she was gone now, and the room was so dark, so quiet, that it felt like the walls themselves were closing in.

A faint creak shattered the silence. Matt stiffened, straining his ears. The door. He was sure it had opened. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising fear that gripped him. His hand tightened around the knife's handle, his knuckles turning white.

"Mom?" he called out, his voice shaky, barely above a whisper.

No answer.

The cold in the room intensified, and he suddenly felt exposed. Vulnerable. The soft creaking of footsteps moved closer, each one sending chills down his spine. He could feel his breath hitching, his body frozen in place. He wanted to stay hidden, to stay where he was told, but every instinct screamed at him to move.

Then, out of the thick, oppressive dark, something cold—unnaturally cold—clamped around his forearm. The grip was harsh, fingers like ice digging into his skin, yanking him out from under the bed with terrifying force.

He let out a scream, his body jerked violently from his hiding place as he was dragged across the floor. The knife fell from his hand, clattering uselessly to the ground. Terror seized him as he thrashed, desperate to pull away, but the cold grip was relentless, dragging him deeper into the darkness. He could feel the floor slipping away beneath him as the shadows swallowed him whole.

His breath came in panicked gasps. "Mom!" he screamed again, his voice echoing, but there was no answer. Only the suffocating cold, pulling him further into the void.

Matt awoke with a gasp, his heart hammering against his ribs, his breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. The darkness of the room was still heavy, shadows pooling in the corners. His hand instinctively reached for the knife, but there was nothing there. Just the faint warmth of his bed beneath him.

Slowly, reality crept back in. The room became familiar again—the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the quiet snores of his father in the bed beside him. Across the room, Rocky sat in the armchair, her eyes watching him with quiet concern. She must have switched places with Vince to make sure he got some rest.

"Matt?" Rocky's voice was soft, her tone gentle. She leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"

Matt didn't respond right away, his mind still struggling to shake off the lingering dread. The cold grip, the darkness—it all felt so real. He could still feel the icy hand around his arm, pulling him into the unknown. He nodded, swallowing hard, but the nightmare clung to him, refusing to let go.

Rocky didn't want to push Matt. She understood the delicate line he was walking, the way he struggled beneath the surface, even though he tried to hide it. She had seen it before, back when she stayed at their house in California. There were nights when she would come in late and hear his muffled screams from down the hall, the unmistakable sound of a nightmare clawing at him. She never said anything—she knew Matt didn't want them to know. He was always trying so hard to keep it together, especially around Vince.

They were close, she and Matt. He was open with her about nearly everything in his life—his dreams, his frustrations, his hopes. But this... this he kept buried. And Rocky respected that. She didn't pry, didn't force him to talk about it, understanding that some things were easier to bear in silence. She believed he would share what he was going through when he was ready. Until then, all she could do was be there for him, quietly offering her support without pressing.