Dark Obsession

Chapter 25: Into the Glass

The door to Dorothy Lynn’s office creaked open with a whisper, like a secret brushing past Camille’s skin. The building had once been a church—its high, arching ceilings and stained-glass windows were relics of worship long turned inward. Instead of pews, the room held tall-backed chairs and heavy curtains in deep crimson. A thick oriental rug muted their steps as Camille and Marcus entered.

Dorothy sat in the center like a queen in her throne. She was not what Camille expected. No earthy therapist in soft tones. Dorothy wore a sleek black dress, silver chains at her throat, and a gaze that penetrated too easily. Her eyes were the shade of stormclouds right before lightning strikes.

“So,” Dorothy said, her voice like velvet laid over blades, “you’re the one being watched.”

Camille hesitated, but Marcus spoke first. “She’s more than watched. She’s being studied. Followed. Possibly… mirrored.”

Dorothy didn’t look surprised. She only gestured to the seat across from her, eyes never leaving Camille.

“Sit. And tell me everything.”

Camille sat, folding her hands in her lap to hide their tremble. “It started after my husband proposed an open relationship. Everything fell apart after that. I started going to the club with Marcus, and that’s when I met them.”

“Them?” Dorothy arched a brow.

“His best friends,” she said. “Julian. Archer. Damien.”

Her lips twitched, almost a smirk. “You walked into the lions’ den, darling.”

Marcus sat beside Camille, unusually quiet. He watched Dorothy with something like suspicion.

“And then you started seeing her,” Dorothy continued.

“Yes. A woman who looks like me. Dresses like me. I caught her on my hidden camera, going through my things.”

Dorothy rose slowly, the heavy skirts of her dress swaying around her legs. She walked toward the back of the office, to a mirror that spanned nearly the whole wall. It was old, its frame blackened silver, etched with swirling designs. Camille’s reflection wavered as she approached.

“This is no ordinary mirror,” Dorothy said softly. “This one shows truths you hide even from yourself.”

Marcus stood. “What is this? I brought Camille here for real answers, not some—”

“She needs to see,” Dorothy interrupted. “You can’t protect her from herself.”

Camille stepped toward the glass. Her reflection looked back—same hair, same eyes, but the longer she stared, the more wrong it seemed. The other Camille didn’t blink when she did. Didn’t move when she tilted her head. The mirror-Camille smiled.

Dorothy’s voice came behind her, low and deliberate. “That is the version of you you’ve created. The one you allow to act out your darkest thoughts while you tell yourself you’re still the good one.”

“I didn’t create her,” Camille whispered.

Dorothy walked closer. “Didn’t you? When you said ‘no more love,’ when you let lust lead and locked your heart in a glass box, what did you think would grow inside it?”

The mirror shimmered. The reflection stepped forward, hand reaching for the glass. Camille backed away instinctively.

“She wants to be let out,” Dorothy said. “But if she ever crosses that line—truly breaks through—you won’t get to lock her back up again.”

Camille turned, her voice shaking. “What is she?”

“She’s obsession,” Dorothy said. “She’s pain denied long enough to become hunger. She’s the you that doesn’t care who she hurts to survive.”

Silence wrapped around the room. Camille’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. Marcus placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. She realized she was trembling.

“So what do I do?” Camille asked. “How do I stop her?”

“You don’t stop her,” Dorothy said. “You understand her. You name what she is and reclaim the pieces she’s stolen.”

The mirror flickered. A sound—like cracking ice—echoed faintly. Camille looked back. The reflection was normal again. Herself. For now.

As they left the office, Marcus looked disturbed. “That mirror wasn’t just for show.”

“No,” Camille agreed. “And Dorothy wasn’t just a therapist.”

They stepped into the night. The street was dark and mostly empty. A shadow peeled away from a doorway across the street. Camille froze.

She looked like Camille.

But the woman didn’t run this time. She smiled… and waved.

Marcus reached for her arm, but Camille was already walking toward her.