The Shadows We Don't Escape
1555 Words
Rain poured endlessly against the windows of Rodriguez Corporation.
The city below glowed beneath the storm, but inside the executive office, everything remained cold and still.
Jordan Rodriguez sat alone behind his desk.
The lights in his office were dim, casting shadows across the room while files remained untouched before him.
His attention wasn’t on work anymore.
It rarely was on nights like this.
Rain had a dangerous habit of dragging memories back to life.
Jordan loosened his tie slowly before standing from his chair.
He walked toward the glass windows silently, his hands sliding into his pockets while his reflection stared back at him.
Cold.
Emotionless.
Controlled.
Exactly what his father had wanted him to become.
Jordan’s jaw tightened immediately.
A memory surfaced before he could stop it.
“Stand straight.”
Twelve-year-old Jordan immediately adjusted his posture.
Mr. Rodriguez lowered the newspaper in his hands and stared at his son critically.
“A man represents himself before he even speaks.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jordan’s voice was calm.
Flat.
Even at that age, he had already learned how to bury emotions beneath silence.
Mrs. Rodriguez entered the dining room carrying food.
“He’s been studying since morning.”
“That’s expected.”
“He’s exhausted.”
Mr. Rodriguez finally looked at her.
“The world does not reward weakness.”
Young Jordan remained silent while staring at the plate before him.
Nothing he did was ever enough.
Ninety-eight was questioned.
Ninety-nine was criticized.
Perfection was demanded constantly.
And slowly—
Jordan stopped expecting warmth from anyone except his mother.
Mrs. Rodriguez sat beside him gently.
“You should rest after dinner.”
“I still have work to finish.”
His father nodded approvingly.
“Good.”
His mother sighed softly.
“He’s still a child.”
“He won’t survive life by remaining one.”
Jordan quietly continued eating while tension filled the dining room.
Eventually his father stood and adjusted his cuffs.
“You’ll inherit responsibility one day, Jordan.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And responsibility requires discipline, not emotions.”
Jordan lowered his eyes slightly.
“Yes, sir.”
By the time his father walked away, the room already felt lighter.
Mrs. Rodriguez turned toward her son sadly.
“You don’t always have to hide what you feel.”
Jordan calmly drank water.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Her eyes softened painfully.
But even then—
She already saw the walls growing around his heart.
Jordan blinked slowly and returned to the present.
Rain hit harder against the windows now.
The office suddenly felt suffocating.
He walked back toward his desk and sat down heavily.
For a brief moment, exhaustion crossed his face.
Then it disappeared instantly.
Coldness returned.
Just like always.
A knock interrupted the silence.
Jordan’s expression sharpened immediately.
“Come in.”
The office door opened carefully.
Maureen stepped inside carrying several files against her chest.
“You forgot these after the meeting.”
Jordan nodded once.
“Leave them there.”
She placed the files down gently before glancing at him again.
The man looked distant tonight.
More distant than usual.
“You’re still here?” she asked softly.
“Yes.”
“At this hour?”
Jordan looked back at his laptop.
“I wasn’t aware I needed permission.”
Maureen sighed dramatically.
“You know, speaking to you feels like arguing with expensive ice.”
No response.
Honestly, she wasn’t surprised anymore.
The man reacted to jokes the same way statues reacted to weather.
She sat carefully across from him.
Jordan looked up briefly.
“Why are you sitting?”
“Because standing makes me look unemployed.”
Silence.
Then Maureen crossed her arms lightly.
“You should go home.”
“I work better here.”
“You also look emotionally miserable here.”
Jordan’s eyes lifted toward her slowly.
Cold.
Sharp.
Warning her silently not to continue.
Most people would’ve stopped.
Maureen didn’t.
“You know,” she said softly, “sometimes people stay busy because they don’t want to think.”
Jordan’s jaw tightened slightly.
Dangerous observation.
He returned his attention to the documents immediately.
“You talk too much.”
“And you avoid too much.”
Silence settled heavily again.
Then Maureen stood.
“Well,” she sighed, “I’m leaving before your coldness freezes my organs.”
Jordan gave a short nod.
“Goodnight.”
She paused at the door.
Then glanced back at him one last time.
“For somebody who has everything…”
Jordan looked at her silently.
“You look lonely.”
And with that—
She left.
The office became quiet again.
Jordan stared at the closed door for several long seconds before finally looking away.
But her words lingered uncomfortably in his chest.
Hours later—
Maureen sat cross-legged on her couch while her best friend Clara ate snacks beside her.
“You’re overthinking him,” Clara said.
“I’m not overthinking,” Maureen argued immediately. “I’m observing.”
“You literally called him emotionally constipated earlier.”
“Because he is.”
Clara laughed loudly.
Maureen pointed dramatically with a spoon.
“That man walks around looking like happiness betrayed his ancestors.”
“He’s just serious.”
“No,” Maureen replied firmly. “Serious people still blink normally. Jordan Rodriguez looks like he schedules emotions once every fiscal quarter.”
Clara nearly choked laughing.
Maureen smiled proudly.
But after a few seconds, her smile faded slightly.
“He does seem sad though.”
Clara blinked.
“The terrifying CEO?”
“Yes.”
Maureen leaned back quietly.
“It’s weird.”
“How?”
“He acts like somebody who stopped trusting people years ago.”
Clara shrugged.
“Rich people always have strange trauma.”
Maureen laughed softly.
“Maybe.”
But something about Jordan’s silence bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
Not because he was cold.
But because his coldness looked painful.
Eventually Clara left.
The apartment became quiet afterward.
Rain still fell softly outside while Maureen prepared for bed.
She turned off the lights and curled beneath her blanket slowly.
Exhaustion pulled her into sleep quickly.
And then—
The dream began.
Darkness surrounded her.
Cold.
Heavy darkness.
Maureen stood alone inside a narrow hallway.
The walls looked unfamiliar.
The lights above flickered weakly.
Her breathing became uneven immediately.
Fear crept into her chest without explanation.
Then—
Footsteps echoed behind her.
Slow.
Heavy.
Maureen turned sharply.
A tall figure stood at the end of the hallway.
Shadowed.
Faceless.
Watching her.
Her heart started racing instantly.
The figure began walking toward her slowly.
One step at a time.
Maureen stepped backward.
“Who are you?”
No answer.
The footsteps continued.
Closer.
Closer.
Panic wrapped tightly around her chest.
“Stop.”
The figure didn’t stop.
Suddenly—
The hallway changed.
The darkness blurred violently around her.
And another memory appeared.
Not a dream.
A real memory.
Sixteen-year-old Maureen stood frozen inside her old house.
Rain hit the roof outside violently.
The smell of alcohol filled the room.
Her father staggered toward her slowly, eyes bloodshot and unstable.
“Dad…” her younger voice trembled.
He grabbed her wrist roughly.
“You look exactly like your mother.”
Fear exploded inside her chest immediately.
“Let go of me.”
But his grip tightened painfully.
“You think you’re too good now?”
“Dad, you’re hurting me!”
His breathing smelled heavily of alcohol.
Maureen tried pulling away desperately.
“Please stop—!”
He shoved her roughly against the wall.
Terror swallowed her whole.
Her father’s hand touched her face in a way that made her stomach turn instantly.
“Please don’t—”
“Be quiet.”
Tears filled her eyes immediately.
“Dad…”
But he wasn’t listening.
He looked at her strangely.
Wrongly.
Like she wasn’t his daughter anymore.
Maureen struggled violently.
“Please don’t touch me!”
Suddenly—
The front door slammed open loudly.
Her mother’s voice screamed from downstairs.
And in that moment—
Maureen shoved him away with all her strength before running into the bathroom and locking herself inside.
She remembered sitting on the floor shaking uncontrollably while her father pounded against the door outside.
Remembered crying silently into her hands.
Remembered feeling dirty afterward.
Terrified afterward.
And after that night—
She never truly felt safe around him again.
Back in the dream—
The faceless shadow grabbed her arm violently.
Maureen screamed immediately.
“Please don’t come near me!”
The shadow pulled her closer.
Strong hands trapping her.
Her breathing shattered into panic.
“No—!”
The darkness swallowed everything.
And suddenly—
Maureen woke up screaming.
She sat upright in bed gasping for air.
Her entire body shook violently.
Sweat covered her forehead while tears blurred her vision.
The room was dark.
Silent.
But her chest still felt trapped inside that nightmare.
“Oh God…”
Her breathing became uneven again.
She grabbed the blanket tightly while trying to calm herself.
But memories kept replaying inside her head.
Her father’s hands.
His voice.
That fear.
Even after all these years—
The memory still haunted her.
Maureen pressed trembling fingers against her mouth.
Then whispered weakly into the darkness—
“Why can’t I forget…?
- Writer
