** **
The horn echoed again.
Once.
Then silence.
Ethan couldn't take his eyes off the little boy.
The child looked exactly like him.
Same eyes.
Same face.
Only smaller.
Only frightened.
“Who are you?” Ethan asked.
The boy lowered his head.
“You know.”
Ethan shook his head.
“No… I don't.”
The boy looked at the toy taxi in his hand.
“I've been waiting for you.”
The old security guard quietly stepped back toward the door.
“I'll wait outside.”
He closed the door behind him.
Now only Ethan and the boy remained.
Ethan slowly walked closer.
The boy didn't move.
“You said I came back for you.”
The child nodded.
“You left me here.”
“I don't understand.”
“You will.”
The room became quiet again.
Ethan noticed the toy taxi.
It had the number 27 painted on its side.
The same as his own.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
The boy held it out.
“My father gave it to me.”
Ethan took it carefully.
The paint was old and scratched.
There was something written underneath.
He turned it over.
One ride. One choice.
His heart began to race.
“What does this mean?”
The boy looked toward the window.
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“I only remember pieces.”
Before Ethan could ask another question, the lights flickered.
The room grew colder.
A familiar voice came from behind him.
“It's time.”
The passenger was standing in the doorway.
Ethan stepped back.
“I thought you couldn't come inside.”
“I couldn't.”
He looked around the room.
“But now you invited me.”
“I never invited you.”
The passenger smiled sadly.
“You opened the door.”
Ethan looked at the child.
The boy's face had turned pale.
“He can't stay here long,” the passenger said.
“Who is he?” Ethan asked.
The passenger was silent for a moment.
Then he answered.
“He is the part of you that never left this place.”
Ethan stared at the child.
“My soul?”
“No.”
“My memory.”
The answer made even less sense.
The passenger continued.
“When you came back eighteen years ago, not all of you returned.”
The boy slowly nodded.
“I've been alone ever since.”
Ethan felt a lump in his throat.
The child wasn't angry.
He wasn't blaming him.
He just looked… Lonely.
The toy taxi slipped from Ethan's hand and landed on the floor.
A small folded paper fell out of it.
Ethan picked it up.
It was another note.
This one was written by an adult.
If you remember the truth, don't let him finish the ride.
“There it is again,” Ethan whispered.
“The same handwriting.”
He looked at the passenger.
“Did I write this too?”
The passenger nodded.
“Yes.”
“So I've done this before.”
“You've tried.”
“Tried what?”
“To escape.”
A long silence followed.
Ethan's mind was racing.
“If I‘ve been here before… Why don’t I remember?”
“Because every time the ride begins again…”
The passenger looked at him.
“… You choose to forget.”
Ethan's eyes widened.
“I would never choose this.”
“You did.”
The child suddenly grabbed Ethan's hand.
His fingers were freezing cold.
“You have to believe me.”
Ethan looked down.
The boy's eyes were full of tears.
“He's lying.”
The passenger didn't react.
The child continued.
“He always tells the truth…”
He paused.
“… Just not all of it.”
For the first time, the passenger looked away.
The hospital lights went out.
Everything became dark.
Only the moonlight entered through the window.
A slow knocking echoed from somewhere in the hospital.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The boy looked terrified.
“They found us.”
“Who?” Ethan asked.
The boy didn't answer.
The knocking came closer.
Room by room.
Door by door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The passenger spoke quietly.
“If they open this door…”
“… None of us leave.”
Ethan looked from the child to the passenger.
He no longer knew who to trust.
The knocking stopped.
Right outside Room 213.
Someone gently turned the doorknob.
It began to open.