The new worlder

I really hate this place. I truly do.

In a world defined by its crushing normalcy. Row upon row of identical suburban houses, paved streets that led to nowhere interesting, and people who moved with the rhythmic, soul-sucking precision of clockwork. I felt like a glitch in the system. I don’t fit, and I don't try to.

 My temper is a short fuse attached to a heavy bomb. I snap before I even realize I’m angry, my patience worn thin by the sheer monotony of it all. I’ve thought about it more times than I can count, just grabbing my gear and vanishing. I crave an adventure, a catastrophe, a change, anything to escape this colourless existence. My eyes always drift toward the edge of the horizon,

where the forest begins. Deep within those woods lies the cave, a place whispered about in hushed tones. They say no one who enters ever comes back out. It’s been years since anyone was foolish enough to try, which, in my mind, only meant the odds are finally starting to tilt in my favour.

A sharp, wooden crack shattered my thoughts. I jolted, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Mr. Henderson, a middle-aged man whose spectacles were perpetually sliding down the bridge of his nose, stood over me. He had slammed his pointer across my desk with enough force to wake the dead. "Concentrate, Constance!" he snapped, his voice heavy with the exhaustion of a man who had given up on me years ago. I stared back at him, feeling the heat rise in my chest.

I knew how I looked to him. A girl with light black skin and eyes so pale they practically glowed, a thin frame, and a wild mane of curly black hair that I’d tried to dye, leaving the ends a scorched, lighter shade. A mess. A distraction. He sighed and turned back to the chalkboard,

droning on with the daily lesson, the history of our town. He babbled about ancient magic and secret places, but it all sounded like blab blab blab to me, just more fairytales meant to keep us compliant. My gaze drifted away from his balding head and back toward the window.

My eyes searched for the treeline, tracing the silhouette of the forest against the pale sky,

wondering if the darkness beneath the trees was waiting for me. It felt like something was waiting for me, pulling me in.

When the final bell rang, it felt like a reprieve from a prison sentence. It was the last class of the day, and for that, I was uncharacteristically grateful. Now, I just had to endure the trek back to the boring house on the boring street where I supposedly belonged. I walked down the sidewalk alone,

a solitary figure in a landscape of forced sociability. On the other side of the road, my classmates moved in tight-knit clusters, their laughter echoing off the pavement. They avoided me like a storm cloud. I’d managed to scare off anyone who might have once considered being my friend.

 My anger was a wall I hadn’t meant to build, but one I certainly knew how to defend.

I can’t help it. I’ve tried the tricks. Counting to ten, deep breathing, finding a "happy place",

but my temper is a wildfire that skips the smoke and goes straight to the inferno. Sofia, the woman who looks after me, says I got it from my mother. I haven't seen my mother since I was two, maybe three. I don’t remember much, only that she vanished and left me behind in this boring town.

I’ve barely been touched by anyone, at least not with any kindness. There was a boy once. I liked him, really liked him. He had dark, messy hair and deep brown eyes that looked like honey in the sun,

he was a total heartthrob. For a fleeting second, I let myself believe that the way he looked at me meant something. I thought he saw past the anger. But it was nothing more than the calculated cruelty of children. It was a game to see if the psycho girl would actually show up to a date.

When I arrived at the meeting spot, my heart racing with a hope I hadn't known I possessed, I didn't find him alone. The whole group was there, waiting in the shadows. Their laughter was a jagged,

ugly sound that tore through the quiet evening. "As if anyone would ever like a headcase like you," they sneered, their faces twisted with a mockery that felt sharper than any knife. I stood there, exposed and humiliated, while the boy with the honey eyes laughed the loudest of them all.

That was the last time I ever tried to be vulnerable. The last time I let anyone close enough to see the girl behind the rage.

If the world thought I was a monster, fine. I’d be the monster they feared.

I climbed the steps to the porch, a porch that looked exactly like every other one on the block and stepped inside. "You're home! I'm making dinner. Go do your homework in the meantime," Sofia called out from the kitchen. Her voice was so predictable I mouthed the words along with her, a silent, mocking duet. "Yes!" I shouted back, already moving toward the stairs. I took the steps two at a time. The top one gave its signature groan under my weight. In the hallway, I ran into Viola, Sofia’s biological daughter. She was a perfect mirror of her mother, blonde, blue-eyed, pale, and thin-lipped. The literal opposite of me. She looked at me with a cocktail of hatred and pure dread, scurrying into the bathroom to avoid passing me in the narrow space. It was fine.

 I didn't like her either. She was one of the royalties at school, the kind of girl who spent her life whispering about boys and crushing anyone who didn't fit her narrow mold. They didn't bother me anymore, though. Not after the incident with Viola’s boyfriend. He’d thought it would be funny to knock my lunch tray out of my hands and pour orange juice over my head. I saw black.

That’s the only way to describe it. I chased him down, tackled him from behind, and latched onto his back like a parasite, hammering my fists into his head. I only broke his nose, which, in my opinion, was a mercy. As I passed the bathroom door, I balled up my fist and slammed it against the wood.

A sharp shriek erupted from inside.

Perfect.

I walked into my room, slammed the door shut, and let my bag thud onto the floor. I slumped into the chair at my desk, which I had positioned specifically to face the window. It offered the only view worth having: a wall of trees. Even then, I never saw so much as a squirrel darting through the brush. I stared out at the still, silent woods. Soon, night would fall, and I’d be granted the privilege of waking up to do this all over again. And again. And again. The next day, I found myself back in my usual state of catatonic boredom, my chin resting in my hand as I stared through the glass, dreaming of a life that didn't feel like a slow-motion car crash. Right on cue, Mr. Henderson approached.

This time, however, he didn't use the pointer. He reached out, grabbed my head with surprising firmness, and manually swiveled it until I was facing the chalkboard. "Thank you, Mr. Henderson,

" I said, flashing him a smile that was more teeth than warmth. He didn't return the gesture.

 Instead, he shoved his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose with a grunt of disapproval and marched back to the front of the room. See? I thought. Why even bother trying anymore? I could already feel the magnetic pull of the window, my eyes itching to drift back to the treeline.

But then, a string of words cut through the static of my mind. Mr. Henderson had shifted topics to the local folklore, the dangers of the woods. Specifically, the cave. He explained that legends spoke of a curse, a darkness so absolute that those who dared to wander in were never seen again.

I know that part already, old man, I thought, leaning in despite myself. Tell me something new.

And, as if he’d heard me, he did. "The legend speaks of a door," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "A door to nothing, and a door to everything. A gateway to a place where your body is no longer your own, a world of creatures and shifting shadows." Then, he barked out a laugh. The rest of the class joined in, a chorus of relieved, mocking chuckles. Henderson waved a dismissive hand, explaining that these were just ghost stories designed to keep children from getting lost. But then his face hardened again. "Regardless of the myths, you must never, under any circumstances, enter that cave.

If you do, you won't be coming back." He might as well have handed me a map and a written invitation. That was the final nail in the coffin. I was definitely going. My eyes sought out the forest one more time. It didn't sound like a warning anymore. It sounded like an exit.

As I walked home that day, the air felt different. My steps were lighter, almost buoyant,

as if the gravity of this town had finally lost its grip on me. I stepped into the house, and the familiar script played out. "You're home! I'm making dinner. Go do your homework in the meantime.

" For once, the repetition didn't grate on my nerves. It didn't matter. I was already halfway gone.

I took the stairs two at a time as usual, the top step groaning, but I barely heard it.

I had a mission. I needed to be clean, if I was starting a new life, a real adventure, I wouldn't take the grime of this place with me. I tossed my bag into my room and dug through my closet for my "adventure gear." I pulled out a pair of heavy-duty black cargo pants, plenty of pockets for whatever I might find, and a thick, dark olive-green hoodie that was tough enough to withstand brambles.

 I took my worn-in combat boots, the ones with the thick soles made for more than just walking on pavement. This was my armor. I headed for the bathroom, but the second I turned the lock,

 the handle rattled violently. Someone was trying to force their way in. "Someone’s in here!" I yelled, already stripping off my school clothes.

"I need to use the bathroom!" Viola’s voice shrilled from the other side. Typical. "Open the door!

 How long are you going to be in there?" she demanded, her voice rising in that annoying, entitled way of hers. "I literally just got in here!" I screamed back, feeling that familiar spark of heat in my chest. "Great, then you haven't started. Come out so I can go first!" I didn't dignify that with an answer. Instead, I balled up my fist and hammered it against the door. A loud, wooden thud that I knew would make her jump. I turned the shower on, listening to the pipes hiss as the water began to heat up. "Mom!" I heard Viola wail, her voice retreating toward the hallway.

 "She’s been in the bathroom for an hour and won't let me in!" I heard the stairs creak as she hurried down to tattle. I scoffed to myself and stepped into the steam, letting the hot spray wash away the stench of the classroom, the boredom, and the "normalcy." I stayed in there far longer than I needed to, well past the time Sofia called for dinner. I leaned against the tile, letting the water run, a small, dark smirk playing on my lips. If this was to be my last night here, I was going to enjoy every second of Viola’s frustration.

The cover of night finally arrived, and with it, the first stage of my plan. I emptied my school bag, dumping the useless textbooks onto the floor, and replaced them with my survival essentials.

Two apples, a fresh change of socks and underwear, a bottle of water, and a flashlight.

 I sat on the edge of my bed, heart drumming a frantic rhythm against my ribs, waiting until the house fell into that heavy, silent stupor that meant everyone was finally asleep. Then came the second stage. The escape. I eased my door open, the hinge giving a microscopic protest that sounded like a gunshot in the stillness. On tiptoe, I crept through the hallway, my breath held tight in my chest. When I reached the stairs, I prepared for the final boss, the squeaky top step. I stretched my leg out, attempting to vault over the traitorous wood, and for good measure, I tried to skip the next one too.

I wasn’t nearly as graceful as I’d imagined. My heel caught the edge of a step, my footing vanished, and I went down hard, bouncing down three steps on my backside with a series of dull thuds.

I froze, huddled on the stairs, waiting for a door to fly open or Sofia to call out. Silence.

The house remained dead. Wincing, I stood up and rubbed my hurting rear, cursing my own clumsiness. I navigated the rest of the flight with agonizing slowness. I bypassed the front door,

too much risk of a neighbour glancing out a window and slipped into the kitchen. The back door was my gateway, it led directly toward the dark silhouette of the woods.  I eased the back door shut behind me, the cool night air hitting my face like a splash of cold water. I scanned the yards,

the fences, the shadows. Nothing moved. Then, I ran. I didn't look back at the suburban cages or the flickering streetlights. I sprinted with everything I had, my boots thudding against the grass until the tall, jagged shadows of the trees swallowed me whole.

Inside the treeline, the darkness was thick and suffocating, like a heavy velvet curtain dropped over the world. The woods had transformed. The familiar trees of the daytime now looked like skeletal fingers reaching for the sky, and the silence was broken only by the snapping of dry twigs beneath my boots and the frantic pulse of my own blood in my ears. The air was colder here, smelling of damp earth and rotting leaves, a sharp contrast to the sterile, soapy scent of Sofia’s house. I realized then that I didn't actually know where the cave was. A minor detail, perhaps, but one that felt much larger now that I was standing in the middle of a black void. I should have researched this, I thought,

but there's no turning back now. I wasn't going to be the girl who ran home because she got lost in the backyard woods. I pushed deeper, my eyes eventually adjusting to the gloom. And then, I saw it. A jagged, yawning mouth of shadow tucked into the side of a rocky cliff. It looked less like a geological formation and more like the earth was holding its breath, waiting for someone to step inside.

I ducked my head as I crossed the threshold, but once inside, the ceiling opened up. It was massive, vast enough for me to stand tall and stretch my arms out without touching the walls. I clicked on my flashlight, the beam cutting through the darkness like a blade.

Drip. Drip.

The sound of water hitting stone echoed through the cavern, rhythmic and hollow. The walls were slick with moisture, glistening in the artificial light, and the air turned heavy and metallic.

My boots rang out against the stone floor, the sound bouncing back at me, making it feel like I wasn't alone. "How deep does this go?" I whispered, but the cave didn't answer. I walked for what felt like an eternity. My legs began to ache, and I wondered if the sun had already started to rise in the world I’d left behind. There were no branching tunnels, no confusing labyrinths, just a single, winding throat of stone that left me no choice but to move forward. Then, the flashlight beam hit a wall. A dead end.