CHAPTER FOUR: The Room That Wasn’t Hers She Wasn’t in the Script
1295 Words
Lila didn’t scream.
She couldn’t.
Her throat felt stitched shut.
Ava’s bedroom.
She knew it was Ava’s.
Even though she had never been here before.
Soft grey walls. Minimalist shelves. A mirror too clean. A bed perfectly made like no one ever actually slept in it.
And the air
Too still.
Too staged.
Her hands were shaking.
Red.
Wet.
Sticky.
“...No,” she whispered.
Her voice sounded wrong in the room.
Like it didn’t belong.
She stumbled backward.
Hit the edge of the bed.
Looked down.
There were faint smears on the white duvet.
Finger marks.
Small.
Thin.
Her size.
Her stomach flipped violently.
“Okay. Okay. Think. Think.”
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:
You moved too fast.
Her heart slammed.
Her fingers felt numb as she grabbed the phone.
Lila: Who is this?
The typing bubble appeared immediately.
Like they were watching her.
You destabilized the scene.
Now we’re correcting it.
Correcting.
That word again.
“Correcting what?!” she shouted at the empty room.
Silence.
Her reflection caught in the mirror across from her.
She froze.
There was blood on her cheek too.
A streak she hadn’t noticed.
Her eyes looked—
Different.
Wider.
Wilder.
Not scared.
Something else.
Her phone buzzed again.
Look behind you.
Her entire body went cold.
“No.”
Another buzz.
Do it.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
She turned.
The bathroom door was open now.
It hadn’t been before.
She was sure of it.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Her heart pounded so loud it almost drowned the sound out.
Almost.
She walked toward it.
Each step heavier than the last.
“Gosh, this is sick,” she muttered.
Her fingers trembled as she pushed the door wider.
The light flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then steadied.
The bathtub was full.
Not with water.
With red.
Her breath left her in one violent gasp.
“No. No. No.”
There was a hand hanging over the edge.
Still.
Pale.
Familiar.
“Ava?” she whispered.
The hand twitched.
Lila stumbled back so fast she hit the wall.
The lights flickered again.
Harder this time.
And suddenly
The tub was empty.
Dry.
Clean.
Spotless.
No red.
No body.
Nothing.
“What the f**k is happening?” she breathed.
Her phone buzzed again.
You’re seeing both drafts.
Her pulse spiked.
Drafts?
One where she survives.
One where she doesn’t.
Lila’s head spun.
“You’re lying,” she whispered.
Am I?
The bedroom door creaked open.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Lila’s heart nearly stopped.
Ava stood there.
Alive.
Uninjured.
Perfect.
But her expression
Wasn’t.
She looked at Lila’s hands.
Then at her face.
Then at the bathroom.
“Did you see it?” Ava asked quietly.
Lila couldn’t speak.
Ava stepped inside.
Closed the door behind her.
Click.
“You weren’t supposed to wake up in this version,” Ava said.
“Version?” Lila finally managed.
Ava’s eyes softened slightly.
And that softness?
It hurt more than the coldness.
“You’re crossing timelines,” Ava said.
“Without permission.”
“Permission from who?” Lila snapped.
Ava didn’t answer.
Instead
She walked closer.
Close enough that Lila could feel her warmth.
Real.
Solid.
“You touched him,” Ava said.
It wasn’t a question.
Lila swallowed.
“You’re acting like that’s illegal.”
Ava’s jaw tightened.
“In this arc? It is.”
The room flickered again.
But this time
It didn’t glitch.
It shifted.
For a split second
Ava’s face looked different.
Harder.
More dangerous.
Like she wasn’t just human.
“You don’t understand what he is,” Ava said softly.
“Oh, I understand,” Lila shot back.
“He’s obsessed.”
Ava’s lips twitched.
“Not obsessed.”
A pause.
“Attached.”
“That’s worse.”
A sudden knock hit the bedroom door.
Hard.
Aggressive.
Both of them froze.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Ava’s face drained of color.
“He shouldn’t be here.”
The handle started turning.
Slowly.
Lila’s chest tightened.
“You locked it.”
Ava didn’t answer.
The door opened anyway.
He stood there.
Breathing hard.
Eyes darker than before.
When he saw Lila
Relief flashed across his face.
Then something else.
Something possessive.
“You jumped drafts,” he said.
Lila blinked. “Can you stop talking like that?”
He ignored her.
Looked at Ava.
“You tried to reset it.”
Ava stepped back slightly.
“I had to.”
He stepped inside.
The air changed immediately.
Heavier.
Sharper.
“You don’t get to decide which version survives,” he said coldly.
“Oh, but I do,” Ava replied.
Lila looked between them.
“Okay. Enough. Can someone tell me if I killed someone or not?”
Silence.
Then—
The guy looked at her.
Long.
Hard.
“In one version?” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
The room tilted.
“And in this one?” she whispered.
Ava answered.
“Not yet.”
The lights shattered.
Not physically.
But visually.
Everything fragmented.
Lila saw flashes—
Herself screaming.
Ava falling backward.
Blood.
The guy holding her.
Whispering something she couldn’t hear.
Then
Another flash.
Her and him.
Alone.
In the blank white space she saw before.
Him touching her face.
Gently.
Like she was precious.
“Why are you choosing me?” she demanded suddenly.
Her voice breaking.
He looked at her like she’d asked the wrong question.
“Because you weren’t written,” he said.
“And that makes you the only real thing here.”
Ava’s expression twisted.
“That makes her unstable.”
“That makes her free.”
The tension between them wasn’t romantic anymore.
It was war.
The walls cracked again.
This time spreading across the ceiling.
Like something was trying to break in.
Ava looked up.
“They’re noticing.”
“Who is they?!” Lila yelled.
Neither of them answered.
Instead—
The other Lila stepped out of the mirror.
Glass didn’t shatter.
It rippled.
And she walked through like it was water.
“Okay,” the other Lila sighed.
“This is officially out of control.”
Lila’s knees nearly gave out.
“You again?”
The other Lila smiled faintly.
“You killed her in the unstable draft.”
She nodded toward Ava.
“So now we’re merging.”
Merging.
Lila looked at her own hands.
The blood was back.
Fresh.
Bright.
Ava staggered slightly.
Like something inside her was glitching.
“You’re collapsing the arcs,” the other Lila said calmly.
“And when arcs collapse”
The guy grabbed Lila’s arm suddenly.
Hard.
Not gentle this time.
“We run.”
“Run where?” she snapped.
The ceiling cracked open.
Not physically.
But like a tear in reality.
Behind it—
Was nothing.
White.
Empty.
Endless.
Ava looked at Lila one last time.
And for the first time
There was fear there.
“If you stay,” Ava said softly,
“I will disappear.”
The other Lila tilted her head.
“If she goes,” she said,
“you will.”
The guy tightened his grip.
“You don’t get both.”
The room began to fold inward.
Walls bending.
Floor splitting.
Time stuttering.
Lila felt herself being pulled in two directions.
Literally.
Her body flickering.
One version of her stepping toward Ava.
Another stepping toward him.
“Choose,” the other Lila whispered.
“Choose what?!” Lila screamed.
But no one answered.
And as the world collapsed
As reality split down the middle
As her vision went white
Lila realized something horrifying.
She wasn’t choosing between them.
She was choosing
Which version of herself gets to exist.
And somewhere in the breaking noise
She heard her own voice.
Not the one standing here.
Another one.
Whispering:
“Pick wrong… and none of us survive.”
Black.
- Writer
