3RD PERSON'S POV
The decision to escape from San Miguel Mental Health Facility had been a desperate act of defiance, fueled by a relentless pursuit of truth and sanity. For Zen, every moment spent in confinement had felt like an eternity, each day bleeding into the next with the monotony of routine and the hollow assurances of well-meaning but misguided caregivers. She had been labeled as delusional, a threat to herself and others, her claims dismissed as symptoms of a troubled mind.
But Zen knew better. She had seen the photographs on the news, the faces of the murdered women hauntingly familiar. They looked like her, bearing an unsettling resemblance that couldn't be ignored. It wasn't a coincidence. It was a breadcrumb trail leading her toward a truth that lay hidden beneath layers of skepticism and disbelief.
Planning her escape had consumed her thoughts, a meticulous calculation of risks and opportunities. She observed the routines of the staff, memorized the layout of the facility, and waited for the perfect moment to slip away unnoticed.
It was on a stormy night that Zen finally put her plan into motion. The rain fell in heavy sheets, a relentless downpour that masked the sound of her footsteps as she navigated the shadowed corridors of the facility. Adrenaline surged through her veins, her heart pounding in sync with the thunderous rhythm of the storm outside.
Reaching the fire exit, Zen paused for only a moment, her hand trembling slightly as she gripped the cold metal latch. With a determined push, she swung open the door and stepped out into the cool, wet embrace of the night. Raindrops pelted her face, mingling with tears of relief and apprehension.
In the courtyard, she hesitated, her senses alert to any sign of movement. The storm raged overhead, lightning flickering across the sky like a warning. It was now or never.
With a surge of adrenaline-fueled determination, Zen ran across the courtyard toward the chain-link fence that marked the facility's perimeter. Each step felt like a sprint toward freedom, toward the elusive truth that awaited her beyond those walls.
Reaching the fence, she didn't hesitate. Her fingers found purchase on the cold, wet metal links, and with a burst of strength born from desperation, she began to climb. Pain shot through her hands and feet, the rain slicking the surface and making each foothold precarious. But she persisted, driven by a fierce resolve that refused to be thwarted.
Halfway up, a blinding spotlight swept across the courtyard, its harsh glare momentarily blinding her. Panic surged through her veins, but she didn't falter. With a final push, she hoisted herself over the top of the fence and dropped to the ground on the other side.
The impact knocked the wind out of her, pain shooting up her leg, but she pushed through it, stumbling forward into the cover of trees that lined the perimeter. Rain-soaked branches slapped against her face and arms, but she pressed on, driven by a singular purpose.
Behind her, alarms blared, their shrill cries echoing through the night. She didn't dare look back. Every second counted now. She had to find a way to prove her sanity, to uncover the truth behind the murders that had led her to this desperate escape.
Hours passed in a blur of relentless movement. The storm eventually relented to a gentle drizzle, but Zen didn't slow her pace. Branches scraped against her face and limbs as she navigated the maze of streets and alleys, her mind racing with a singular focus.
Finally, she found herself in the quiet solitude of an abandoned alleyway. Leaning against a damp brick wall, she closed her eyes, struggling to catch her breath and steady her racing heart. The adrenaline that had propelled her forward began to ebb, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.
She was free. She had escaped the confines of San Miguel Mental Health Facility, but the real challenge lay ahead—to find the answers she sought, to prove her sanity, and to uncover the truth that had eluded her for so long.
With renewed determination, Zen pushed herself away from the wall and ventured back into the city streets. Her steps were purposeful, her senses alert to every shadow and sound. The night was still young, and so was she.
As Zen approached her home under the cover of darkness, relief and trepidation warred within her. The rain had eased to a soft drizzle, leaving the air thick with the scent of wet pavement and uncertainty. She crept up to the front door, her senses on high alert after the harrowing events of the night.
Pushing the door open cautiously, she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, her eyes scanning for any signs of intrusion. The house felt different now, its familiar walls holding secrets she had yet to uncover. Every creak and rustle seemed amplified in the stillness of the night.
Moving toward the living room, Zen caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively, her hand reached for the gun she had taken from her room before leaving the facility. With a steady grip, she aimed the weapon at the shadowy figure standing before her.
"Who's there?" Zen demanded, her voice a mix of fear and determination.
The figure turned slowly, revealing not one, but two identical men facing her. They were mirror images of each other—tall and lean, with sharp features and piercing eyes. Their resemblance was uncanny, down to the smallest detail of their attire and stance.
Zen's heart skipped a beat as she struggled to make sense of the surreal scene unfolding before her. Two Noahs. Twins. It seemed impossible, yet here they stood, a living paradox in her own home.
Exhaustion began to weigh heavily upon Zen, her limbs suddenly feeling like lead. The adrenaline that had sustained her through her escape now gave way to a bone-deep weariness that threatened to consume her. Her grip on the gun faltered, the weight of it suddenly unbearable.
With a final effort, Zen managed to whisper, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart, "What... what is this?"
But before either Noah could respond, the world around Zen began to blur and spin. Darkness crept in at the edges of her vision, threatening to engulf her entirely. The last thing she felt before slipping into unconsciousness was the cold, hard floor beneath her and the relentless ache in her battered body.
And so, in that moment of uncertainty and revelation, Zen succumbed to the exhaustion that had been building within her for days. The truth remained elusive, dangling just out of reach, as she slipped into a dreamless sleep that offered no respite from the nightmares that had become her reality.
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