Chapter 15 : The Memory That Should Have Stayed Buried

Chapter 15: The Memory That Should Have Stayed Buried

The darkness was absolute.

Daniel's pulse thundered in his ears as the last whisper echoed through the room.

> "Run."

But he couldn't move.

His fingers clenched around the file, the paper crinkling under his grip. The scent of antiseptic and dust filled his lungs, thick and suffocating. The air was cold, unnaturally so, and it clung to his skin like a second layer.

Then—the chair creaked.

The figure in the shadows shifted.

Something was rising from the seat.

Daniel's breath caught. He still couldn't see it clearly. The flickering emergency light outside the room cast jagged slashes of red across the walls, making the figure seem like it was half-there, half-not.

Then—it took a step forward.

The air grew colder, heavier, thicker.

And finally, in the dim light, Daniel saw it.

A face.

Or what should have been one.

Because it was his own.

---

The Impossible Reflection

Daniel staggered backward, his chest tightening. The figure in front of him looked exactly like him—but wrong.

Its features were blurred, shifting, like they were being rewritten over and over. Its eyes were hollow, empty pits of darkness. And its mouth—it didn't move. But he heard it speak.

> "You were supposed to forget."

Daniel's head throbbed. A sharp, piercing pain erupted behind his eyes. His grip on the file loosened. The papers slipped from his hands, scattering across the floor.

The moment they hit the ground, the text changed.

The printed words bled away, fading into blank pages.

Every. Single. One.

> "They'll take everything."

Daniel's stomach twisted. The pain in his head intensified—not just pain. Something else.

Like a memory was trying to surface.

Like something buried was being forced back into the light.

And then—

The figure stepped closer.

Its movements were jerky, unnatural, like it was learning how to walk.

Its voice echoed in Daniel's mind, low and distorted.

> "You're not ready."

The lights flickered back on.

---

The Empty Room

Daniel sucked in a sharp breath.

The figure was gone.

The chair was empty again.

The desk was untouched.

And the file—it was back inside the drawer.

Neatly placed. As if he had never opened it.

His hands were still shaking. His body knew what happened.

But the room… the room was trying to tell him it never did.

His gaze darted to the wall.

There. Fresh ink, smeared and messy, as if written in a rush.

His own handwriting.

> "Do not trust what you see."

Daniel's breath hitched.

Because he had never written that.

---

The Escape That Doesn't Make Sense

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Daniel turned for the door, his instincts screaming at him to leave.

But the moment his hand touched the handle—he was no longer in Room 19.

The cold, clinical walls of the hospital blinked away.

And suddenly—

He was standing outside.

In the rain.

On a street he didn't recognize.

His breath hitched. His coat was soaked as if he had been out here for hours. His shoes were covered in mud.

And in his hand—the file.

Even though he had left it behind.

He hadn't walked here.

He hadn't even left the hospital.

But here he was.

And he had no idea how.

---

The Rain-Soaked Street

The rain fell in sheets, drenching him within seconds. The street was empty, the buildings on either side dark and lifeless. The only sound was the steady drumming of rain against the pavement.

Daniel's mind raced. He looked down at the file in his hand. The label was still there, faded but legible.

> Patient: [REDACTED]

He flipped it open. The pages were blank again.

But as he stared at them, the ink began to reappear. Words formed slowly, as if being written by an invisible hand.

> "You're not supposed to be here."

Daniel's pulse quickened. He looked around, but the street was still empty. The rain made it hard to see more than a few feet in any direction.

And then—

A sound.

Footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate.

Coming from behind him.

Daniel turned, his heart pounding. The figure from Room 19 stood at the end of the street, its features still blurred, its hollow eyes fixed on him.

It took a step forward.

Daniel's breath caught. He backed away, his shoes slipping on the wet pavement.

The figure spoke, its voice echoing in his mind.

> "You can't escape."

Daniel turned and ran.

---

The Chase

The rain made it hard to see, hard to breathe. Daniel's feet splashed through puddles, his coat clinging to his body. The street seemed to stretch on forever, the buildings on either side identical and unchanging.

He glanced over his shoulder.

The figure was still there, following him at a steady pace. It didn't run. It didn't need to.

Daniel's chest burned. His legs ached. But he couldn't stop.

He turned a corner, hoping to lose the figure, but the street was the same. Empty. Endless.

And then—

A door.

It stood in the middle of the street, incongruous and out of place. A simple wooden door, its paint peeling, its handle rusted.

Daniel didn't think. He grabbed the handle and pulled.

The door opened.

Inside was darkness.

He stepped through.

---

The Room That Shouldn't Exist

The door slammed shut behind him.

Daniel was back in Room 19.

The desk. The chair. The file.

Everything was exactly as he had left it.

But something was different.

The figure was sitting in the chair, its blurred features shifting, its hollow eyes fixed on him.

It spoke, its voice low and distorted.

> "You can't escape."

Daniel's breath hitched. His vision blurred. His head pounded.

And then—

The lights went out.

---