Dark Mirror and Twisted Truth

“Selene! Come outside!” The voice cut through the silence of the house, sharp and commanding. Selene Hope Eleanor stood still in the middle of her room, her fingers curling slightly at her sides as the late afternoon light filtered weakly through the curtains. The house felt lifeless, as though time itself had stopped within its walls. She didn’t answer. Her name carried the word “hope”, a gentle promise of warmth and light, but it was something she had never truly known. To her, it felt like a quiet irony—something distant and unreachable. “Did you hear me?!” her father called again, his voice louder now, edged with irritation. Selene swallowed and forced herself to move, each step toward the door heavier than the last. When she opened it, she found him standing at the end of the hallway with his back already turned to her, his posture stiff and unyielding. He didn’t wait for her to speak. “I told you already,” he said coldly, “don’t ever try to go to your mother’s grave. You don’t have the right to grieve.” Selene froze where she stood, the words striking her with painful familiarity. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. There was nothing she could say that would matter. Nothing that would change the way he looked at her. In his eyes, the truth was simple and absolute: she had survived, and her mother had not. That was all that mattered to him. The front door slammed moments later, echoing through the house with a force that made her flinch. The silence that followed felt heavier than before, pressing down on her from all sides. Her father’s words replayed in her mind, over and over, each repetition cutting just as deeply as the first.