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Reflections of the Damned

Neph444
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
In a sprawling metropolis where the lines between reality and illusion blur, Lara Harper begins to notice the cracks in her world. After a string of inexplicable events—time loops, unsettling strangers, and a photograph of herself in a place she’s never been—Lara is thrust into a psychological nightmare. Her once-familiar city seems alive, shifting and pulsating as though it has a will of its own. The photograph, which shouldn’t exist, becomes the key to unraveling the mystery. Within its frame lurks a shadowy figure, growing clearer with each passing moment. Every clue Lara uncovers only deepens her paranoia: an enigmatic neighbor with cryptic warnings, a seemingly kind friend with secrets of his own, and an eerie text message from someone who knows far too much. As Lara delves deeper, she discovers she isn’t the only one trapped in the city’s grasp. Victor, her steady but haunted upstairs neighbor, and Margot, the alluring and enigmatic woman from down the hall, are drawn into the unfolding madness. Together, they uncover fragments of a terrible truth: their reality is a fractured mirror, reflecting something far darker on the other side. But the city isn’t just breaking—it’s hungry. As time and space collapse around her, Lara must confront the figure in the photograph, the twisted nature of her memories, and the possibility that she is both the hunter and the hunted in this surreal nightmare. In Reflections of the Damned, sanity is fragile, trust is fleeting, and every choice inches Lara closer to the truth—or her destruction. Will she shatter the mirror, or will it shatter her?
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1

Familiar Walls, Unfamiliar Shadows

Lara pushed through the revolving door of her apartment building, her breath fogging in the unusually cold air of the lobby. The world outside had become oppressive—a labyrinth of strange faces and shifting streets. Her heels clicked against the cracked marble tiles as she made her way to the elevator, its brass paneling tarnished and smeared with unidentifiable smudges.

Inside the elevator, she jabbed the button for the third floor. The doors slid shut with a grinding groan, and the flickering overhead light cast ghostly reflections in the mirrored walls. Lara caught sight of herself—her chestnut hair disheveled, dark circles framing her gray eyes. She hardly recognized the woman staring back.

When the elevator jolted to a stop, the number "3" lit up dimly on the display. The hallway was empty, save for the soft hum of the lights and the faint scent of mildew. Apartment 304 was at the far end of the corridor, but as she approached, Lara's steps faltered.

The door was wrong.

It was hers—she knew it was—but the brass numbers were dulled, the edges of the doorframe chipped and weathered. A sticky note clung to the wood. Scrawled in crude handwriting, it read: "You don't belong here."

Lara snatched the note and crumpled it in her fist. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the door, the mechanism sticking before finally giving way.

The apartment inside was… familiar, yet alien.

The faint smell of rust and dampness clung to the air, thick enough to taste. The living room was exactly as she had left it—or at least, close enough. The faded green sofa faced the television, and a stack of books leaned precariously on the coffee table. But small, jarring details threw her off balance:

The clock above the kitchenette ticked unevenly, its second hand moving backward every few beats.

A vase of flowers sat on the counter—fresh lilies she never bought.

And then there was the photograph.

Lara froze, her eyes locking onto the picture frame on the table. It wasn't hers. The photo showed her standing in a sunny park alongside three people she didn't recognize. Two men and a woman, their faces blurry and undefined, smiled warmly at her. The background was equally strange: a sprawling park with a grand fountain and towering willows. She'd never been to such a place.

Her mind raced. Where had the photo come from? She picked it up, her fingers brushing against the glossy surface. On the back, a date was scribbled in neat handwriting: August 13, 2020.

Three years ago.

The sound of a door creaking snapped her attention to the bathroom.

"Hello?" Lara called, her voice cracking. No answer came. The door stood slightly ajar, the mirror inside reflecting a sliver of the living room. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she stepped forward, the carpet muffling her movements.

The bathroom mirror caught her full reflection as she approached—pale, anxious, and impossibly small in the shadowy space. Something was wrong. Her reflection stared back, but its movements were just a fraction off, a split-second delay that sent chills racing down her spine.

"Who are you?" Lara whispered, her breath fogging the glass.

Her reflection smiled.

The expression didn't belong to her—it was too wide, too sharp, teeth glinting in a way that made her stomach churn. She stumbled backward, knocking over a toothbrush holder, and turned toward the living room.

As Lara caught her breath, the distinct sound of a knock echoed from the front door. She rushed to answer, her nerves fraying. Standing in the hallway was Victor, her upstairs neighbor. His sandy blond hair was disheveled, and he wore a hoodie zipped halfway up.

"Lara," he said, his deep voice laced with concern, "are you okay? I thought I heard a crash."

Victor was a steady presence in her life, a quiet but observant man who always seemed to know when she needed help. He had once joked about being her guardian angel, though his weary eyes hinted at his own demons.

"I… I'm fine," Lara lied, her voice trembling.

Victor tilted his head, glancing inside her apartment. "You sure? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Before she could answer, a third voice interrupted them.

"What's going on here?"

Lara turned to see Margot, her enigmatic neighbor from 302. Margot was tall and elegant, with raven-black hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to see straight through people. She was the type of person who never revealed too much about herself, yet always seemed to know everyone else's secrets.

"I heard voices," Margot continued, stepping closer. "Is something wrong?"

Lara hesitated, glancing between Victor and Margot. Should she tell them what she'd seen? The photograph? The mirror? Her instincts screamed not to, but the fear clawing at her chest begged for reassurance.

"Nothing," Lara said, forcing a smile. "Just a rough day."

Victor frowned, clearly unconvinced. Margot raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable.

"All right," Margot said softly, her voice laced with a strange edge. "But if you need anything, you know where to find me."

The two retreated to their apartments, leaving Lara alone once more. The silence pressed down on her as she turned back to the photograph on the table.

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