When someone with depression enters the horror game

Shen Lian's body shrank again.

Holding the rough tablet, he huddled in a box with a small space.

The feeling of darkness, oppression, and suffocation is so familiar, tempting him to give up rational thinking.

The soul sinks slowly with the rusty iron anchor, drowning in the shadow of childhood that seems real and unreal, and is slowly filled by formalin.

There was a rough knock on the door outside the bedroom.

He buried his face in the quilt, listening to the sound outside, unmoved.

"Shen Lian! Open the door!"

"Who told you to lock the door!"

He was still lying under the quilt, with some anxiety and some panic that he didn't even notice.

There was another knocking sound, accompanied by the sound of dismantling the door lock, hitting the eardrums little by little.

"Snapped."

The door opened.

The woman he was very familiar with came in, lifted the quilt, and began to scold her head and face.

"Who told you to lock the door!"

The decibels are shockingly loud.

"Why can't I lock the door?"

The woman grabbed the book in hand and threw it at his face.

"You try to lock it again."

The taunting voice of the man outside the window came in, adding a bit of oil to this unharmonious scene.

There are no curtains on the windows in this bedroom.

The woman scolded enough and complained enough before stepping on her high heels and leaving the house.

The man was still sneering outside.

Shen Lian couldn't figure out why he couldn't lock the door of his bedroom.

He sat on the bed, a little dazed.

He listened to the TV outside and waited for his parents to turn off the TV.

It's so loud.

He expected them to go to bed soon.

He waited for all the lights in the house to be turned off.

When the home was finally dark, he walked softly to the door of the next bedroom to make sure his parents were fast asleep.

He quietly went back to his bedroom, stood barefoot on the floor, looked at the scrapped door lock for a long time.

Although it was pitch black.

He still didn't turn on the light, and walked to the closet.

He opened the cabinet door and shrank himself in.

Perhaps his miraculous ability to close the cabinet door from the inside came from the foundation laid in childhood.

Like a freezer in a hospital morgue.

When the private rights of the bedroom are violated by the extremely controlling parents, what can bring him a sense of security may be the endless night.

There are also small lockers that lock from the inside.

Dark, oppressive, suffocating.

Dark, oppressive, suffocating, safe.

Just like the utility blades he hides in his clothes, and the needles stuck everywhere in his clothes.

Sharp and hurt yourself.

Sharp, hurt yourself, safe.

His eyes were closed, as if in amniotic fluid.

The light sense in the eyes warned him that there was light, and someone opened the box.

Outside the box, a child pierced the horns and showed a sly smile.

"I got you."