The story of Samantha Ram and The Backrooms.

Thurs.... Friday?

I've lost track of time.
I have been wandering throughout this hell hole. Searching.
I could've been minutes, hours, a week, maybe a year.
I'm going insane.
I keep hearing these noises. Like breathing or moaning? At this point I've accepted my death. I will get eaten or... I don't know by this beast.
I move every time the floor begins to hurt my back. And the breathing follows. I don't know why it hasn't made it's move yet. I am right in front of it. Lying down, waiting for this to end.
I wish I would've been nicer to Zeke,  Nessa, my mom, my dad, my sister Kim. This time to myself gave me time to reflect on my life; look back at everything I've smiled at, hated, and just life overall.
I finally gave up and yelled, "Free food! I'm ready to be eaten!" I was pathetic. If Ezekiel were here he would dying laughing with his latest girlfriend Jennifer.
Zeke hates his real name, and I personally thought his nickname was better as well.
The breathing was right behind me.
I could almost feel the mouth of this monster open. I closed my eyes, preparing for the pain.
But instead I heard a voice.
"My name is Holly. What's yours?"

I turned around to see a girl. She looked in her mid-twenties. She had long beautiful black hair, green eyes, and was a little taller than me.
"Samantha Ram."
"Well Sam, Zbeyp is on his way, and we need to find a hiding spot, your yelling created quite a commotion."
Zbeyp? Was that the monster?
She grabbed my hand and we began running through the halls, then slipping into a small crevasse.
"We'll be safe here." She whispered with a smile.
She had some of the most beautiful teeth I have ever seen. All aligned with a small gap in in-between her two front teeth.
I heard footsteps.
I squeezed her hand.
What felt like 20 minutes later, Holly said. "We should be safe."
"What is this place?"
"I... don't know." She said apologetically.
"Will I ever be able to return home?" I asked.
"Yes. I have located exit points, but I don't know how we will be returning home."
"Where are you from?" I said.
"Scotland. Born 3/2/54"
"Texas, USA. 10/31/69"
"How long have you been here?"
"Hard to tell.... But since I was 12."
"And you haven't thought to leave?"
"I'm to scared to... die."
That hit me hard. 20 years?
In this shit hole?
"You rest. I'll be lookout."
Was I going to die here?