On the seventh day, when I woke up, it was nighttime.

All the lights in the "house" turned a scary dark red, and even the temperature dropped significantly.

Things were getting abnormal!

I found a dark green sweater from the bedroom closet and put it on. The door was slammed, "Nana, come downstairs for dinner! Everyone is waiting for you!"

This time, I wasn't afraid, feeling almost relieved in my heart.

Walking down the stairs, there were two people sitting at the dining table - my dad, who hadn't shown up for a few days, and a brother who looked like a dead person.

Only my brother glanced at me, while my dad appeared like a gray shadow throughout, I couldn't even see his face clearly.

My brother pointed to my watch, his face turning cold with tension.

I remembered his reminder: "You can take the first bite of the noodles your mom cooked, but don't take a second bite."

The blood-red light shone on the top, making all the furniture seem like soaked in blood, creating an atmosphere in the house even more oppressive and terrifying than a graveyard.

My mom's obese body squeezed over, holding a pot in her hands, slamming it on the table.

She mechanically served everyone a bowl of noodles.

The soup was reddish, as if prepared with blood as a base, and the white noodles looked extremely strange, thick as intestines and very elastic.

I picked up my chopsticks, stirred the noodles, and several bugs floated up from below.

My scalp tingled, a feeling of nausea washed over me.

Except for me, everyone else quietly ate the noodles, pulling the chewy white noodles long, wrapping them in the red sticky soup and eating them.

"Nana, no daydreaming while eating!"

On the last day, I made a decision, leaving my watch on the pillow in the bedroom.

If I could see the bullet comments, there would probably be countless people expressing sympathy for me right now.

My brother also advised, "The noodles won't taste good once they're cold."

Do I have to eat the noodles to leave here?

Under my mom's gloomy and coercive gaze, I took a bite of the noodles.

A strange fishy taste, the chewy elasticity filled my taste buds, what I swallowed was definitely not "noodles"!

After swallowing, I covered my throat and kept retching.

"Quick, eat! Keep eating!" My mom slammed the table, shouting.

Tears blurred my vision as I continued to refuse vehemently, even without my brother's reminder, I couldn't bring myself to take another bite of this strange food.

"Cheng Na, how dare you disobey!" My mom banged the table with force, her face contorted, her eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

"Eat, eat! You must eat!" She repeated this sentence in a strange, hoarse manner.

I pushed away from the table, fear flooding my heart, my trembling gaze fixed on the door of the "house," desperately wanting to escape.

Just as I left the table, my hair was fiercely grabbed by someone.

I screamed!

At this moment, my mom's face became rugged, her overweight face inflating like a balloon, as if the "skin" would burst in the next second.

She lifted the pot next to her where the noodles were cooked, her strength making it impossible for me to break free.

Those hands tugged at my hair, trying to push my face into the boiling noodle soup.

One hand propped on the table, the other frantically searching, finally finding a fork for eating noodles, and jabbed it into my mom's hand.

The fork didn't hit bone, as if piercing into slippery plastic.

My mom let out an ear-piercing scream, releasing my hair, green viscous liquid dripping from the wound.

She coldly stared at me, her eyes blinking rapidly, with a membrane covering them.

Mom lowered her head, licked the liquid oozing from the wound, and the wound healed instantly!