Episode two: Fractured Reflection
319 Words
The next morning, Kian sat before his bathroom mirror, tracing the cracks in the glass with his eyes—not with his fingers. Each tiny fracture seemed to shimmer, as if hiding a secret he couldn’t yet grasp. His reflection wavered like a broken film reel—somewhere between who he was and who he feared he might become.
His breath fogged the mirror, blurring the jagged shards until they resembled shards of memory—broken, scattered, incomplete.
The dreams hadn’t stopped. Since Patient 47B vanished from the schedule, Kian’s nights had been plagued by whispers that slithered just beyond his understanding. Every shadow in his apartment twisted into faces—faces pleading, warning, accusing. He could almost hear their voices in the silence, like a faint pulse beneath his skin.
He blinked hard. The voice from yesterday echoed: “You already know.” What did he already know? What truths had he buried beneath layers of clinical detachment and cold diagnoses?
His hands trembled as he reached for the coffee, but the bitter taste was lost on him. The phone buzzed relentlessly on the counter—missed calls from the hospital, messages marked urgent. He silenced it with a sigh, unwilling to confront the chaos waiting beyond the door.
Kian knew the truth—if only he could reach it. Patient 47B wasn’t just a case number. They were a puzzle—fractured, elusive, dangerous. A mirror reflecting the darkest parts of himself.
The hospital halls seemed to close in on him now, every step echoing like a countdown. Every face in the ward held questions he wasn’t ready to answer. Something was coming. Something patient, something waiting in the silence between screams.
And Kian Voss wasn’t sure he was ready.
The mirror crackled faintly as if whispering secrets he dared not hear. In the fractured glass, his reflection smiled—a smile that didn’t belong to him.
- Writer
