Chapter 60

It came again, as it always did, when the silence in her room felt too suffocating, too deep. Nora sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the worn-out carpet, trying to focus on anything but what was coming. She had to face it.

She knew it, even as the sweat began to bead on her skin. The Faceless Smiler was close. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach, a heavy, cold emptiness that nothing could fill.

The first time it appeared, she thought she had imagined it. She had woken up in the middle of the night, alone, and there it stood in her doorway—its face nothing but an open, hollow mouth stretched into a grotesque grin. It didn't speak at first.

It just stood there, silent, waiting. When it did finally speak, the voice came not from its mouth but from the air around her.

"Face it," it had said.

Her heart thudded. She hadn't understood. But it didn't matter. The thing didn't care if she understood. It just wanted her to confront the things that kept her awake at night.

Now, months later, it had become a cycle. Every few weeks, it would come back. Each time, it would show her the things she had hidden, the things she was too afraid to admit. The guilt, the regret. Her failures. The things she had buried so deep inside herself, hoping they would disappear.

But the Faceless Smiler didn't let them disappear. It wouldn't let her run. If she didn't face it, if she couldn't look at it head-on, it would make her suffer. And worse, it would leave her with nothing, no escape.

The door to her room creaked open, and there it was again. She didn't look up. She didn't have to. The stench of something dead filled the air. She could feel its presence, the coldness in the room that wasn't there before.

"Face it," the Faceless Smiler said again, its voice cold as it had been every time before. It didn't say much else. It never did.

Nora squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to face it. She didn't want to look at the parts of herself she had tried to ignore. The hurt she'd caused. The mistakes she'd made.

But she knew what would happen if she didn't. She'd die, the same way the others did. Those who couldn't face their demons. Those who let it consume them until they couldn't breathe anymore.

She took a deep breath. "I can't," she said, her voice cracking. "I don't want to."

The Faceless Smiler didn't move. It didn't need to. It just stood there, waiting, watching her. Its smile was wider now, more stretched, as if enjoying her discomfort. It waited for her to break.

She squeezed her hands together, fighting the urge to cry. She had to do this. She had to face it. She couldn't keep running from herself.

"Please…" Her voice trembled, but she said it again. "Please, don't make me do this. I can't."

The Smiler's silence pressed on her like a thousand stones. But she couldn't stop. She had to push through.

With shaking hands, she stood up. Slowly, she moved towards the mirror. She had to look at herself. Really look. The truth that was buried under layers of anger, of regret, of everything she had shoved down for so long—she had to face it.

In the mirror, she saw herself. But not the face she wanted. Instead, she saw the woman she'd become—the one who had hurt people, the one who had been too scared to fix things, the one who had pushed everyone away to protect herself.

The Smiler's smile stretched even wider as it observed. She was shaking. Her heart pounded. She wasn't ready for this, not really. But she had to face it. She had no choice.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to the reflection. The words felt like they belonged to someone else, someone who had long forgotten how to feel. But they were all she had. "I'm sorry for everything."

She closed her eyes, waiting for the blow. For the punishment. She expected to collapse, to crumble under the weight of her own soul. But nothing happened. The room was still. The Smiler was gone.

She opened her eyes. The mirror was empty. Her reflection was there, but it was just her, nothing else. For the first time, the Faceless Smiler was gone.

The silence stretched out, too quiet, too long. She thought she had won. But as she looked at herself in the mirror, she knew. It wasn't over. It would come again. The Smiler would return, like it always did. And next time, it would be worse.

But she had one thing left—a small, fragile piece of relief. She had faced it. And that was all she could do for now. It would never be enough. Not really. But it would have to be.

For now, it was enough to survive another night.