I remember as a young girl what people were like. They were violent, vile creatures that wanted nothing more than to watch others suffer. But my mother was different. She cared, she had empathy, she was the only one that would love me. She was the veil protecting my skin from the burning sun that was burning her slowly, completely and utterly selfless. Sometimes I look back to those days and wonder if I could’ve done anything to help her. She always knew how to help me, but I was just too young, too foolish, too naïve to understand. She would sacrifice so much for me just to try and make my life a little easier. Her own life is wrought with the uncontrollability of her husband, but yet she chooses to protect me instead of finding a way out. If my mother was an angel, then my father would be the devil. He seemed to only be concerned about himself. I remember him always being frustrated, yelling and screaming at me until my ears drew blood. He was pissed that I was a girl, only wanting a boy so he could mold him into another version of himself. My mother never knew how terrible he was until it was too late. Her option of leaving was abolished by a mound of debt and an unwavering desire to protect her child. Every day I worry about her and every day, I think about trying to find a way back to help her. I feel like for now I’m not concerned about escaping where I am. Maybe at first I was, but not anymore.
I remember the day I got here as if it was yesterday, that evening long ago: an innocent girl playing with the toys that mother smuggled for me. I heard the hulking footsteps of my father and tried to hide the toys as fast as possible underneath my bed. The shadow under my bed was missing but it didn’t matter to me until I reached down and felt the floor fall beneath me. My hands reached up only to grab air instead of the hardwood. With a damp thud of my body and a change of color in my eyes, I ended up here. I regained my bearings and observed my surroundings. Yellow dingy walls, moist moldy carpets and buzzing ceiling lights. I was no longer in Kansas. I was in what they called “the Backrooms”.
I wandered around for quite a while, sniffling with watery eyes. I was only 8 at the time, just a small little girl with her toys in a desolate office-scape, all alone. I never thought about calling for help: I’d never done it before. All I echoed through those barren halls was a simple sniffle. But nobody came.
I was already used to the feeling of an empty stomach so it didn’t bother me too much, but the lack of water was getting to me. I don’t remember how long I was in there for but it felt like it could’ve been over a day. Once in a while I’d hear noises, like heavy footsteps and familiar voices, although they were unintelligible. Sometimes I’d freeze in place because of how much they sounded like my father. Eventually I’d find a wall that looked like my floor when I went to hide my toys. It was distorted, had unnatural light or lack thereof. It felt completely out of place so I went to touch it, hoping it would lead me somewhere, maybe not home but somewhere. I fell through once again, with my stomach becoming weightless and a cool chill of air breezing past my body before landing on concrete.
Still alone but with a feeling of hope, I trekked onwards through the now foggy terrain. The area looked like a parking garage or maybe a warehouse with concrete on the walls, ceilings and floors. The silence was deafening after only hearing office lights for so long, but was occasionally shuttered by the sound of drips and drops. I lost my toy during the fall, so I searched for it. Eventually I’d stumble across a few small wooden crates strewn about the area which had some food and almond water but also some random things like crayons, tree bark, cloth and even just a box of ants, but none had my toys. Oddly enough there wasn’t any normal water which struck me as odd at first but then I realized it had some form of value when a man came running towards me, hoarsely yelling for my almond water. His skin was peeling and patches of muscle were showing. He looked down at me, kneeling over breathing in my face. He grabbed my shoulder, egging me on with a threatening tone. His disfigured face was replaced by my fathers in that moment. I remember him being so close that I could hear the blood from his body erratically jolting through his veins. He shoved me, pushed me, and looked me up and down, drooling a mix of warm blood and saliva onto my skin. I stayed frozen in place until he eventually snatched it out of my hands and I showed no resistance as I slowly backed away. I’d have a few other strange encounters with these grotesque figures along the way. I couldn’t tell if they were really human or not, nevertheless I was scared.
I remember hearing a voice sprawling across the concrete jungle, asking if anyone was there after I got a new toy from one of the crates. From a distance it looked human but as it further approached I realized that it was anything but human. The skin was sagging like ooze but was also firm like dough. It began slowly shuffling towards me before quickening its cadence. I darted around the corners hoping it would lose my trail, but it didn’t lose my scent. I know running is usually hopeless but my legs moved swiftly on their own, detached from my mind. As I felt it encroaching, only mere feet away from me I felt that familiar sensation; stomach weightless as a feather and the wind as cold as a blizzard. Yet again I was falling.
As my body jolted back to normality I felt a soft response run across me from head to toe. It was as if an angel had intricately woven a cushion to ease my fall. My eyes filled with pink, pink everywhere. It was like I was in my dream room.
I looked around in pure wonder. The pretty pinks, the cute toys and plushes, the lushious bed with exuberantly soft pillows and a desk in front of the side of the bed. The desk had an old computer on it with a fittingly old mouse and keyboard. There was also a closet with a dresser full of beautiful and adorable clothes. It was like a dream.
I went around exploring the house, occasionally pinching my arm to make sure that what I was seeing was real. Although the house wasn’t fully furnished it had everything I could ever need. Food, water, all the toys I could ever want and even cooking utensils.
Every once and a while I’d see something in the corner of my eye. It looked like a shadow, a tall one, dark and slender. I was nervous at first, wondering if another person was here with me in this place. Monster or human, I would still be afraid. Then after a nap I saw it, standing over my bed.
It's dark stature soared to the top of the ceiling, skin black as night and texture like a dark fabric. Its face devoid of any features and its limbs devoid of any fingers or toes. I was scared at first, hiding under the bedsheets. I peered out and saw it tilting its head. I remember asking “what are you?”, but to no response. I kept asking it questions, but it responded to none of them. Eventually I felt oddly safe and got out from underneath the covers. I stood up and looked up at it. “I-i’m…i’m going to go eat something. Is that ok…?”. Yet again, no response.
I remember walking to the kitchen and it stayed behind me. I kept looking back at it and every time I did it would just tilt its head, as if asking “what’s wrong?”. I started trying to cook something new with the stove. I had never used a stove before at that point, so I struggled to figure it out. I just wanted to try and make ramen as a starting place. I never had learned how to read, at the time but the pictures for the instructions seemed easy enough. I got water in a pot from the sink and put it on the stove until it eventually started to boil. With the water rolling with bubbles and steam I dropped the noodles into the pot, and the blazing hot water splashed out onto my arm. It burned and I started to sob, but then the creature opened the freezer and grabbed a few cubes of ice and wrapped them in a paper towel. It put it on the burn and looked at me. I froze for a second, processing what was happening. I stopped crying, if only for a moment before continuing again. The ice made the pain tolerable and my crying went soft, a slow sniffle with the occasional hiccup. I didn’t know what to make of it at the time, but all I knew is that the creature reminded me of my mother, another veil for my burning skin.
In a way, it was my mother. I mean it practically raised me here. Eventually I’d give it a cute name. I called it “Kitty”. Kitty was my everything. They taught me how to do everything. Reading, writing, cooking and so much more. They never said a word and sometimes wouldn’t even nod, but I found that to be cute. They showed me where I can learn to read and write on the computer. They’d mostly just stand around or sit down looking at me with content, occasionally pointing at things or nodding, but I still had a lot of fun with them. We'd dress up, I’d play toys with them, I’d read them stories, we'd cook together and we’d eat together, kinda. They don’t have a mouth so it’d just be me eating, but I’d still always enjoy it. I still even have drawings on the wall that I made of them or us.
“Kitty makes me feel safe.
Kitty makes me feel happy.
Kitty is my everything.”
I stare at the screen I’m typing on. A pixel canvas and a clicky quill surrounded by drawings of memories we shared. I never once felt alone here, even with just me and them. I wandered the halls of this place earlier today. It was solemn and melancholic looking at all of these photos and drawings on the walls. I think Kitty noticed something was up. I went back to my room to start writing, to flesh out what was going on in my head. I asked Kitty to give me some time alone for a while. I wonder if they get lonely.
I’d never want to leave this place, except for one issue: my mother. I wanted to see her again. Sometimes I can’t sleep at night because I think about what dad could be doing to her. I hope she’s ok. It’s been nearly 5 years since I last saw her. I don’t know if I can find a way out of this place though. Even with all of the reading and research I’ve done about this place, this so called “Backrooms”, I still haven’t found almost anything about an exit. Maybe I’ll be the one to find it. I’ll miss Kitty though, but I know they’ll be fine here. Although I don’t want them to be alone…God I’m so pathetic, look at me, crying while I’m writing this. I guess it’s just hard to accept letting go of someone you love. I’ll say one last goodbye, give them one of my favorite stuffed toys to leave this house and move on to another level.
“Goodbye Kitty, but it’s time for me to try to go back. I’ve kept my mother waiting long enough.”