The room didn't feel the same anymore.
It wasn't silent.
It was watching.
She dropped the phone on the bed like it burned her skin.
"No…" she whispered, shaking her head, stepping back. "No, this isn't real."
Her voice sounded unfamiliar.
Too desperate.
Too fragile.
"This is just stress… just my mind playing tricks…"
But even as she said it, the words felt weak—like they didn't believe themselves.
Her eyes darted back to the screen.
Dark now.
Still.
As if nothing had happened.
As if she imagined it all.
A small, bitter laugh escaped her.
"Of course…" she muttered. "I'm losing it."
That was easier to accept.
Easier than the truth.
She turned away, running her hands through her hair, pacing the room like she could outwalk the thoughts chasing her.
"I didn't leave anyone…" she said louder this time.
The words echoed.
But echoes don't agree.
They repeat.
And repetition doesn't make something true.
Her gaze shifted back to the window.
The reflection stood there again.
Still.
Quiet.
Unmoving.
Just like before.
But this time—
it didn't feel like her.
She froze.
Slowly, carefully, she stepped closer.
The reflection followed.
Exactly.
Perfectly.
And yet…
her chest tightened.
Because something was off.
Not in the movement.
In the feeling.
"Stop it…" she whispered to herself. "You're imagining things."
She reached out, her fingers almost touching the cold glass.
The reflection did the same.
But for a split second—
it didn't stop where she did.
Her breath hitched.
Her hand dropped instantly.
"No."
Her heart started racing, louder than her thoughts now.
"No, no, no…"
She stumbled back, shaking her head violently.
"I didn't do anything…"
The sentence came out faster this time.
Forced.
Like she needed to hear it more than anyone else.
"I didn't leave anyone there!"
Her voice cracked.
The room stayed still.
But inside her—
everything was breaking.
The memories tried to return again.
That night.
But she pushed them away.
Harder this time.
"No."
She covered her ears like that could stop her own mind.
"I don't remember anything. That means nothing happened."
That's what she chose to believe.
Because forgetting felt safer than knowing.
Because if she remembered—
then she would have to accept it.
And she wasn't ready for that.
Not yet.
The phone buzzed again.
Louder this time.
Closer.
She didn't move.
Didn't turn.
Didn't breathe.
Because deep down—
she already knew.
This wasn't over.
It was just beginning...