The door opened with ease, but as it creaked, Natalya was immediately enveloped in darkness. It was pitch black inside, and the sudden emptiness hit her like a wave. Her heart rate quickened.

She instinctively reached into her pocket for her phone, the cool surface of it offering a brief moment of comfort in the silence. 

Flicking on the flashlight, the small beam of light cut through the gloom, illuminating the edges of what appeared to be a wooden cabin.

She took a step forward, her shoes tapping softly against the floorboards. As she moved further into the room, her eyes adjusted to the faint glow from her phone. To the right, she noticed a row of switches on the wall, their metal toggles giving off a subtle shine. Without thinking, her hand reached for one of them, pressing it down with a quiet click. Then another. The room seemed to come to life in stages. The light above flickering, then humming as it brightened, casting long shadows that stretched across the wooden walls.

The slow illumination revealed more details that had been hidden in the darkness.

A comfy pink sofa sat in the middle of the room, its soft cushions meticulously arranged. In front of it stood a small round table. Directly across, a TV was mounted on the wall, its dark screen untouched, as if it hadn't been used in ages. On either side of the TV, shelves displayed various ceramic pots of different sizes, their delicate forms contrasting with the sleek, unlit screen. Her gaze drifted downward, grazing over the plush carpet beneath her feet—the fabric was thick, deep, and inviting.

Natalya felt a strange pull toward the sofa, as though the warmth and softness of it was calling to her. She slipped off her shoes and socks, her feet sinking slightly into the carpet as she padded over to the sofa. She sank down into the cushions, feeling an unexpected wave of relief rush over her. The comfort seemed to surround her, filling the empty space with a false sense of security. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the softness to seep into her muscles, the silence in the room cocooning her like a blanket.

But after a few moments, she reluctantly got up, a sense of unease tugging at her. As she stood, her eyes scanned the room once more. The stillness of the space seemed to weigh on her, like a heavy presence pressing against her chest. And that's when she noticed it.

In the far corner, tucked away behind an armchair, was a newly built fireplace. The fireplace itself was pristine, but the area around it was constructed from smooth, carefully arranged stones. Their light grey surface caught the glow of the room, adding a touch of rustic charm to the otherwise modern addition.

The hearth was spotless, the ashes of any past fires long gone. There were no logs stacked, no remnants of smoke lingering in the air. It felt as if it hadn't been touched in years, as though time had stopped here.

Natalya stepped closer to the fireplace, a chill creeping up her spine as she looked around the room. The air was still and undisturbed. There was no warmth to the space, no sense of life. Everything was perfectly clean, but the silence pressed in on her, making her feel more alone than she had ever felt in her life. It was unsettling, and yet, there was something oddly calming about it.

She walked further into the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence. As her gaze swept the walls, she froze. The wooden walls were cream color but what caught her eye was something else.

On the walls, there were photos. Lots of them. But they weren't like the typical family pictures she had expected to see in a place like this. There were no group photos, no smiling faces of family or friends. Just one face. Hers.

Natalya's eyes widened as she looked at each photo, her breath catching in her throat. There was one of her as a child, sitting at a park bench with a big smile on her face. Another from a trip she couldn't place, with her standing near a beach, the ocean behind her. There was one of her outside a café, looking confused, as though she had been caught off-guard by the camera. Another showed her blowing out the candles on her birthday cake. But none of the photos seemed familiar. None of them felt like memories she should have.

She approached one photo on the wall, her fingers trembling as she reached out to touch the glass frame. The cool surface sent a shiver down her spine as she tried to make sense of what was in front of her. How could all of these pictures of her be here? Who had taken them? Why were they all in this cabin? Is this my cabin?

Her breath caught in her throat as she pulled her hand away from the photo, her fingers still tingling from the contact with the cold glass. A shiver ran through her body, and for a fleeting moment, she considered leaving. Why were they here? She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

The cabin, despite its pristine cleanliness, felt wrong. 

Empty, yet full of lingering eyes, of memories that weren't hers—or at least, not memories she recognized. She backed away from the photo wall slowly, her eyes darting from one picture to the next, searching for any clue, anything that could explain the strange sense of déjà vu washing over her. But there was nothing. Just her, always her, and nothing else.

She spun around, desperate to break the tension in the room, and her gaze fell on the kitchen area. Maybe, just maybe, there was something normal there, something that could ground her. She walked briskly toward it, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling creeping up her spine. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the silence as she crossed the floor. She flicked the light on

The kitchen was tidy, almost too tidy. The counters were clean, the floor polished, and the cabinets neatly arranged. But when she opened the fridge, her stomach dropped. It was completely empty. Not even a bottle of water, no leftovers, no signs of life at all. Just a cold, hollow void that seemed to echo her unease.

Natalya closed the fridge with a soft thud, her mind racing. What did it all mean? Why was she here, alone, with no sign of anyone else? She tried to push the questions away, focusing on something else to calm her nerves, but it wasn't easy. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the photos on the wall. Had she always lived here? Could it be that this cabin, this place, was hers?

Her eyes turned toward the dining table, which was set for a meal. It was strange. Everything in its place, as if someone had just finished preparing for dinner. Plates, glasses, silverware, all arranged perfectly. But there was no food. The absence of something so simple yet vital made the space feel sterile, almost artificial.

Natalya walked closer, her fingers grazing the edge of the table. She couldn't help but feel like she was being watched, though there was no one around. It was as if the cabin itself had been prepared for someone, but she couldn't figure out who. Was she the one supposed to sit here? Was she the one who had arranged everything? The thought made her stomach churn with uncertainty.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, before turning away from the dining table. As she walked back into the living room, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. There was an odd sense of familiarity to the cabin, yet nothing felt like it belonged to her. The feeling of being an outsider in a place that was supposed to be hers was too much to bear.

Feeling the need to escape the pressure building in her chest, she turned toward the stairs leading to the second floor. She needed to get away from the suffocating silence below. The wooden steps creaked beneath her feet as she ascended, the quiet sound seeming to follow her as she climbed. She paused at the top, staring down the narrow hallway that split into two rooms. The first room caught her attention.

It was so different from the rest of the cabin. The walls were painted a soft, calming shade of pink, and everything in the room looked meticulously arranged. But the space was shrouded in darkness, the details barely visible in the dimness. She hesitated before reaching out and flipping the light switch. 

A soft, welcoming glow flooded the room, instantly shifting the atmosphere. It was as if the light had breathed life into the space, making it feel warmer, almost safe. The bed, covered in fluffy blankets and stuffed toys, beckoned her to rest, and the soft light from a bedside lamp cast gentle shadows that made everything appear warm and inviting.  On the wall behind the bed, delicate star decals shimmered faintly under the glow, adding a touch of whimsy. Above, a circular ceiling lamp hung at the center, its gentle light spreading evenly across the room.

But the moment her eyes drifted over the room, she noticed something strange. 

On the walls, there were more photos. Her photos. 

Just like downstairs, they were framed and hung all around the room. Each picture captured her in various moments of her life: laughing with friends, standing alone at a park, or lost in thought in some unknown place. It felt like a collection, as though someone had been following her, capturing pieces of her life that she didn't even remember.

Her hand subconsciously reached out, brushing lightly against one of the frames. She stared at the photo. A candid shot of her walking through a crowded street, completely unaware of the camera. A sudden pang of dread rose in her chest. The feeling of being watched crept back, stronger than before.

Natalya pulled her hand back as though the photo had burned her. Her breath hitched as she turned away from the photos, a sense of panic rising within her. She backed up to the opposite side of the room, her mind scrambling for an explanation. Was she imagining things? Or had someone really been watching her all along?

Trying to steady herself, her gaze landed on a dressing table tucked into the corner. It was surrounded by a string of small light bulbs that framed the mirror, unlit but waiting to glow. The surface was cluttered with perfume bottles, makeup, and delicate accessories, everything arranged as if someone had been using them regularly.

With a trembling hand, she reached for the switch and flicked it on.

A soft, warm light bloomed around the mirror, illuminating the space in a golden hue. The bulbs reflected against the glass, casting shimmering patterns across the walls. She stared at her reflection, her own wide eyes staring back at her, filled with uncertainty.

Who did all of this belong to?

She turned away, her pulse racing as she moved toward the closet. She opened the door and found it crammed with clothes. So many clothes. Dresses, jeans, shirts, all neatly folded and organized. Were these hers? She couldn't remember ever owning such a collection. Could it be that she had? But why didn't she recall any of it?

She knew she had to try to remember, but looking at everything confused her even more. She had come here for answers, but the only thing she was met with was more questions.

A sudden chill washed over her. She needed to get out of this room, away from the photos, away from the clothes. She needed space to breathe. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was feeling suffocated by the overwhelming sense of confusion.

She stepped into the next room, hoping it would offer some relief and flicked the light on. But this room was different. 

Bland, almost stark in comparison to the one she had just left. The walls were bare, the bed was simply made with no decorative touches. There was nothing here to comfort her. No photos, no toys, no warmth. Just the bare essentials, like a room meant for someone who had no attachment to the space. Yet, even this simple room felt oddly familiar. Was this the room she had always slept in? Or maybe she's feeling like that because she was in the hospital room for the past months.

It was strange how it seemed so familiar yet so foreign at the same time.

Natalya stayed there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The feeling of being trapped in her own life was becoming too much. Was this cabin really hers? Were these rooms filled with memories she had somehow forgotten? Or was someone else involved in this strange, unsettling puzzle?

Natalya walked back downstairs and settled into the sofa again. She pulled her legs up and stared at the ceiling. She had come here because this was the only clue she had of her identity. But she was met with more questions. She sighed and closed her eyes. 

Maybe she could take the path she had used to come here and maybe talk to some people. Anyway she had to start somewhere, to find someone who could help her piece this all together. Her mind was racing with unanswered questions, but the overwhelming sense of confusion weighed her down. She needed a moment to think clearly, to gather her thoughts.

She took in a few deep breaths, the soft cushions beneath her offering a temporary reprieve from the storm of thoughts swirling in her head. She couldn't stay here forever, but she also couldn't leave without understanding more about what was happening. Who had placed all these photos here? Why did the cabin feel like it should be familiar, yet entirely alien at the same time? And most pressing of all, why couldn't she remember the life these photos seemed to represent?

To distract herself from everything she fumbled with her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen, trying different combinations. Nothing worked. Each failed attempt made her more anxious, her pulse quickening as the feeling of being trapped in the cabin tightened around her.

Frustrated, she let the phone slip from her hands and land on the cushion beside her. She sat in the silence, her mind racing. She had to unlock this somehow. This could have answers she want.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed beside her. Her hand trembled as she glanced at the screen, her heart leaping into her throat.

The notification had appeared out of nowhere. Just a single line of text.

I'm watching you.

Her breath caught in her chest, and her pulse spiked, pounding in her ears. The world around her seemed to freeze. For a moment, she couldn't process it. The silence in the room felt suffocating, pressing against her chest. She looked around wildly, eyes darting over every corner of the room, every shadow. Was someone here? Was someone watching her right now? She held her breath, straining to hear anything. Any sound that might indicate another presence.

Her thoughts scrambled, unable to find any clarity. Is this a glitch? She stared at the screen, hoping, praying that it was just a malfunction, that something would explain this away. But what if it wasn't? What if someone really was here, watching her? The idea felt too real, too terrifying.

She dropped the phone onto the cushion beside her, hands shaking. Her mind raced, spinning out of control. Who could be sending this? How did they know where she was? Was someone controlling her, controlling everything in this cabin? Was this all part of some cruel game?

The air in the room grew thicker, oppressive. Her thoughts were suffocating her. No, this can't be happening. It's just a mistake. It has to be.

But deep down, a cold, icy certainty gripped her.

Someone knew who she was.

Word Count- 2660