THE BLOOD KEEPS THE LIE ALIVE
CHAPTER 45 I stopped trusting mirrors a long time ago. They reflect what you expect, not what’s real. If you stare long enough, if you're quiet enough, sometimes they flinch—just slightly—like the image knows you're not supposed to be looking at it. Like it knows you’re not supposed to be here at all. Tonight, the mirror didn’t flinch. I did. I stared at my own face in the dorm room mirror—bare, pale, and distant. My hair had dried into wild waves, damp from the rain earlier. There were scratches on my knuckles I didn’t remember getting, and a faint bruise under my jaw I’d been telling myself was from bumping into the edge of my desk. But I knew better. Something inside me felt… foreign. Like I was slipping into someone else’s life. Or she was slipping into mine. Across the room, my
- Writer
