Nathaniel's heartbeat echoed in his ears as he typed, each word pulling him deeper into the story—and closer to a truth he hadn't been ready to face. Every sentence felt like an unraveling, the boy's journey mirroring his own struggle through the haze of loss, each step revealing another fragment of pain. Yet tonight, as he wrote, something felt different, an urgency, a sense that he was on the edge of something hidden, something he was afraid to find.
In the story, the boy's path had narrowed into a tunnel of twisted branches that closed in like a cage. Shadows lurked at the edges of his vision, whispering his name, but he forced himself to keep moving. He knew now that this wasn't just any forest; it was a prison, a place where memories came to trap those who couldn't let go. And as he walked, the whispers grew louder, more desperate, like a warning.
Ahead, a clearing opened, the fog parting to reveal a strange sight. In the center of the clearing stood a tall, cracked mirror, its surface dull and streaked, reflecting only fragments of the boy's silhouette. The boy hesitated, feeling an unnatural pull toward the mirror, as if it were a doorway to somewhere he wasn't meant to go.
Tentatively, he stepped closer, his breath catching as he looked into the glass. The image staring back at him wasn't just his reflection—it was an older, broken version of himself, someone who looked haunted, hollowed out. The figure's eyes held a pain that the boy felt in his own heart, a pain he recognized but couldn't fully understand.
Then, suddenly, the figure in the mirror moved on its own, reaching out a hand, pressing its palm against the glass. The boy mirrored the motion, placing his hand against the cold surface. The glass was icy, sending a shiver up his arm, and he could feel a strange energy crackling beneath his skin.
In the silence, a familiar voice drifted from the mirror. "You don't have much time."
The boy froze, his heart pounding as he recognized the voice. It was his brother, the voice faint, like it was coming from far away. Desperation twisted through him, a need to break through, to shatter the barrier between them. But the figure's expression shifted, darkening, its mouth forming words the boy couldn't hear.
He pressed harder against the glass, his own reflection blurring, distorting, until he could barely tell who was on which side. The figure's voice grew louder, words spilling out in a hurried rush, as if it were desperate to tell him something before it was too late.
"You need to remember, Nathaniel," the voice pleaded. "I didn't just leave. I—"
But the words cut off abruptly as a sharp, splintering sound shattered the quiet. A jagged crack spidered through the mirror, fracturing the image into a thousand pieces. The boy stumbled back as the mirror's surface rippled, then burst, shards of glass scattering around him like falling stars. He shielded his face, bracing himself as fragments of memory, faces, voices, swirled in the air around him, images he hadn't seen in years, memories that had been locked away.
When he opened his eyes, the clearing was empty, the mirror nothing but shattered glass scattered across the ground. The boy dropped to his knees, his mind reeling as he tried to understand what he'd just seen, what he'd heard.
Then, he noticed one shard glimmering at his feet, reflecting an image he couldn't look away from. Inside the shard, he saw the faint, ghostly outline of his brother, his face half-hidden in shadow. His mouth moved silently, his eyes filled with something that looked like fear.
And then, in the faintest whisper, the boy heard the words that would haunt him forever:
"You don't understand, Nathaniel. I never left. I'm still here."
The boy's heart froze, his blood running cold as the whisper echoed, reverberating through him. He staggered back, the clearing dissolving into shadows, his mind splintering as the impossible truth washed over him.
Nathaniel blinked, his hands trembling as he sat alone in his apartment, his mind reeling. The words from the story lingered in the air, as real as if someone had spoken them aloud. I never left. I'm still here.
The room felt too quiet, as if something unseen were watching, waiting. Nathaniel could feel a chill spreading, a presence settling into the air around him, pressing down like a weight he could barely breathe through. And then, just as he turned to look behind him—
The lights went out.