A Desperate Call
The tapping at the window ceased, replaced by an oppressive silence that seemed to crush the air in Lara's apartment. The photograph lay on the table before her, the shadowy figure in its background becoming more defined with every glance. Its elongated arms stretched unnaturally toward her.
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the phone. Margot's earlier warnings rang in her mind: "Don't trust anyone who knocks." But trust wasn't the problem now—it was survival.
Margot answered on the first ring.
"You shouldn't have called," Margot said without preamble, her voice low and strained.
"Are you serious?" Lara snapped. "You've been feeding me cryptic warnings and riddles while my entire reality is falling apart. You owe me answers, Margot!"
There was a long silence, broken only by the faint hum of static.
"I'm trying to keep you alive," Margot said finally, her tone softer but no less urgent. "You don't know what you're dealing with."
Lara's voice shook as she pressed the phone to her ear. "Then tell me! What is this thing? Why is it after me?"
Margot sighed heavily, the sound weighted with exhaustion. "It's not just after you, Lara. It's after all of us."
Lara sank onto the couch, gripping the phone tightly. "What do you mean?"
Margot hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "This building… this city… it's not real. Not completely. It's a fractured place—a mirror between worlds. Some of us belong here, and some of us don't."
Lara's heart raced. "I don't understand. Are you saying I'm not real?"
"No," Margot replied quickly. "You're real. But you've started seeing the cracks, noticing the things you're not supposed to. That makes you a threat to the balance."
"Balance?" Lara repeated, her voice rising. "What balance? And why is this thing trying to replace me?"
Margot's next words sent a chill down Lara's spine. "Because that's how it maintains control. Every time someone notices the truth, the city replaces them. It uses the reflections—fractured versions of us—to take our place."
Lara's breath hitched. "So… the thing outside, the one pretending to be Victor…"
"It's not Victor," Margot confirmed. "It's a reflection trying to get in."
Lara stood and began pacing the room, her mind spinning. "If this has happened before, how did you survive? Why hasn't it replaced you?"
Margot's laugh was dry and humorless. "Because I play by the rules. I stay in the shadows, avoid the mirrors, and don't look too closely at the cracks."
Lara's frustration boiled over. "That's not good enough, Margot! I can't live like this—trapped in my own apartment, afraid of my own reflection. There has to be a way to stop it!"
The line crackled, and Margot's voice dropped to a near-whisper. "There might be… but it's dangerous. More dangerous than anything you've faced so far."
"What is it?" Lara demanded.
"There's a way to reach the other side of the mirror," Margot said. "To confront the entity directly. But if you fail…"
Lara swallowed hard. "If I fail, what?"
"You'll become one of them," Margot said. "A reflection, just like the thing outside your door."
Lara leaned against the wall, her legs weak beneath her. The idea of confronting the entity terrified her, but the thought of doing nothing—of living in constant fear—was worse.
"How do I reach the other side?" she asked finally, her voice trembling.
Margot sighed again, her voice heavy with regret. "There's a ritual. You'll need to use the photograph. It's a tether, remember? A link between you and the other side. But once you start, there's no turning back."
"What do I have to do?" Lara asked, steeling herself.
Margot hesitated. "You'll need to find the key. It's hidden somewhere in your apartment. Once you have it, place the photograph on a mirror—any mirror—and turn off all the lights. The entity will try to stop you, but you have to finish the ritual. If you succeed, you'll cross through to the other side."
"And if I don't?"
Margot's voice grew cold. "Then the entity will take you, and the reflection will take your place."
The line went dead.
Lara sat in silence, the weight of Margot's words pressing down on her. The photograph seemed to pulse faintly in her hands, as if alive. The figure in the image seemed closer now, its key gleaming in the dim light.
She glanced around her apartment, the shadows looming larger than ever. Somewhere in this room was the key, the first step in a journey that could either save her or destroy her completely.
The tapping at the window resumed, louder and more insistent than before. The voice outside, no longer Victor's, whispered her name.
"Lara…"
The clock on the wall ticked backward, its hands spinning out of control.
She stood, determination hardening her features. Whatever this thing was, whatever the city had become, she wouldn't let it take her.
The noise clawed at Lara's sanity.
The tapping at the window turned into furious pounding, rhythmic and relentless, as though the glass itself would give way at any moment. Shadows danced in the corners of the room, elongating unnaturally, their movements taunting her. The voice—low, guttural, and dripping with malice—slithered through the cracks beneath her door.
"Lara…" it whispered, stretching her name into a hiss. "Let me in."
She pressed herself into the corner of the room, her knees tucked to her chest. Her breaths came in shallow gasps as the walls of her apartment seemed to close in around her. The photograph lay on the coffee table, its edges curling slightly, almost as if it were breathing.
"Make it stop," she muttered under her breath, clutching her knees tighter. Her voice cracked as she squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face. "Please, just make it stop."
But the pounding didn't stop. It grew louder, more insistent. The sound echoed in her skull, shaking her resolve.
Lara's thoughts spiraled, her grasp on reality slipping with every second. Was this real? Was the thing outside her door even there? Or was this some cruel trick her mind was playing on her?
The photograph's warning—"Look closer"—burned in her memory, but she couldn't bring herself to touch it again. The figure in the image haunted her, its impossible limbs and that key dangling from its fingers. It was waiting for her, but she wasn't ready.
Another wave of pounding rattled the window. The voice outside grew louder, more insistent.
"You can't hide forever," it growled, no longer trying to mimic Victor. "I'll find you. I always find you."
Lara whimpered, covering her ears. Her body trembled as she pressed herself further into the corner. She thought of Margot's cryptic warnings, the ritual she wasn't ready to perform, and the terrifying idea of crossing into the other side. It was all too much.
"I can't do this," she whispered.
As the noise became unbearable, Lara did the only thing she could. She crawled toward the couch, pulled down the throw blanket draped over its back, and huddled beneath it like a frightened child. The fabric smelled faintly of lavender detergent, a sharp contrast to the metallic tang that clung to the rest of the apartment.
Underneath the blanket, Lara squeezed her eyes shut, willing the world to disappear. The pounding, the whispers, the shadows—they couldn't reach her here. Not if she didn't look.
Minutes stretched into hours.
The noises outside grew louder, then softer, then louder again, as though they were taunting her. At times, the tapping stopped entirely, replaced by a deafening silence that was somehow worse. Lara's heart would race, expecting something worse to come next, only for the noise to start again, more violent than before.
Sleep was impossible, but exhaustion dulled her senses. She clutched the blanket tightly, her body trembling as the night dragged on.
When Lara finally opened her eyes, sunlight streamed through the blinds. The silence was so absolute that it felt unreal, as if the apartment itself were holding its breath.
She sat up slowly, her body stiff and aching. The blanket fell from her shoulders, pooling around her on the floor. The photograph was still on the coffee table, untouched, but the figure inside had changed again.
It was closer now, its elongated fingers brushing against the edges of the image. The key it held gleamed more brightly, catching the morning light.
The apartment felt… wrong. The air was too still, the shadows too deep despite the sunlight. Lara's gaze flicked to the window. The glass was intact, but faint smudges marked its surface—handprints, impossibly large and smeared as though something had been clawing at it.
Her phone buzzed on the table. She grabbed it instinctively, her heart sinking when she saw the message:
"You can't hide forever."
Her hands shook as she set the phone down. She needed to make a choice—to confront this growing nightmare or continue hiding and hope it wouldn't consume her entirely.
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