The hospital halls had never felt so desolate, as though each step Adrian took carried him further from the tangible world and deeper into a forgotten dimension. His footsteps echoed unnaturally, bouncing off the walls in disjointed rhythms, growing louder with each step. It was as if the walls themselves whispered back to him, their voices too faint to understand, but their message clear—he was not alone.
Adrian's breath felt shallow as he ventured down the dimly lit corridor, the remnants of shattered reflections still etched into his mind. He had survived the mirror's destruction, but the whispers that surrounded him now were louder, more insistent. The hospital, this labyrinth of darkened rooms and endless shadows, pulsed with an unseen energy, as though the very air had become sentient, watching, waiting.
A distant voice drifted through the air, soft and melodic, yet unsettling in its familiarity. His pulse quickened as he recognized it—it was his own voice, but distorted, broken. He followed the sound, drawn toward it as though his body moved of its own accord, led by a force stronger than fear.
As he turned the corner, he saw it—a figure at the end of the hallway, its back to him, standing motionless. The air around it shimmered, like the heat rising off asphalt in the summer, distorting its form. Adrian stopped, his heart hammering in his chest. The figure turned slowly, revealing a face that was his own but twisted with anguish, its eyes hollow and full of sorrow.
"Who are you?" Adrian whispered, his voice barely audible.
The figure didn't respond but lifted a hand, pointing toward a door that Adrian hadn't noticed before. It was an old wooden door, ancient and out of place in the sterile, clinical environment of the hospital. Its surface was cracked, the paint peeling, as though it had been left to decay for centuries.
Without thinking, Adrian approached it, his hand trembling as he reached for the handle. The figure disappeared the moment his fingers brushed the cold metal, leaving him alone once more. A sense of dread washed over him, but he couldn't stop now. He turned the handle, the door creaking open to reveal a room bathed in darkness, with only the faintest glimmer of light coming from somewhere deep inside.
Stepping through the threshold, Adrian was engulfed by the void, a suffocating blackness that felt alive, pressing against him from all sides. The whispers grew louder now, not just from the walls but from the very air around him, swirling in a cacophony of voices, all speaking in tones too soft to decipher.
In the center of the room, illuminated by a faint, sickly glow, stood a large mirror—unbroken, its surface perfectly smooth. Adrian's reflection stared back at him, but something was wrong. The reflection didn't move in sync with him, didn't mirror his expressions. Instead, it stood still, its eyes boring into his with a look of cold detachment.
"You've come so far," the reflection said, its voice a deep echo of Adrian's own. "But you've always known where this path would lead."
Adrian swallowed hard, unable to tear his gaze away. "What do you want from me?"
The reflection smiled, a twisted, joyless grin. "It's not about what I want. It's about what you need."
With a sudden movement, the reflection raised its hand and placed it against the glass. Adrian, as if in a trance, mirrored the action, his palm resting against the cool surface of the mirror. For a brief moment, everything was still, as though the world had paused in anticipation.
And then, the mirror began to ripple.
A surge of energy rushed through Adrian's body, as if the mirror was pulling something from him—something he had long kept buried. His vision blurred, his mind fracturing under the weight of memories long forgotten. He saw flashes of faces, voices, moments from his past that he had tried to forget, all of them pouring into the surface of the mirror.
His reflection began to change, morphing into something grotesque and otherworldly. The figure on the other side of the glass grew taller, its features stretching into a horrifying caricature of Adrian's face, its eyes burning with an unnatural light. The whispers intensified, filling Adrian's mind with unbearable noise.
"You can't escape," the reflection said, its voice now a deep, guttural growl. "This is who you are."
Adrian's strength faltered, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor, his hand still pressed against the glass. The mirror's surface was alive now, undulating like a pool of liquid, pulling him in. He struggled, trying to pull away, but the force was too strong.
As the room around him began to fade into darkness, Adrian realized with dawning horror that the reflection wasn't just a part of him—it was the truth he had been running from all along.
And now, the abyss was ready to claim him.
With one final, desperate breath, Adrian let go, the cold grip of the mirror pulling him into the void, leaving behind only the faintest echo of his existence.