Chapter 25 : The Room
**Chapter 25: The Room That Was Never Empty**
Darkness.
A void.
Daniel floated in it—conscious but untethered. He had no body. No weight. No sense of time. Just fragments of sound, voices flickering in and out of existence.
Then, like a switch flipping—
Pain.
The void shattered, and reality slammed into him.
A sharp inhale tore through his lungs. His body spasmed. The cold bite of restraints dug into his wrists. His head pounded like a drum, memories slipping away before he could grasp them.
A single overhead light buzzed above him.
He was in a hospital bed.
No. Not just a hospital bed.
He was back in Room 19.
---
**The Nurse With the Hollow Eyes**
A figure stood over him.
A woman.
The same nurse from before.
But something was different.
Her eyes—dark, bottomless—watched him without emotion. Like she wasn't really looking at him, just through him.
Daniel's throat was raw, his voice barely a whisper. "Where am I?"
The nurse adjusted the IV in his arm, her expression never changing. "Where you belong."
His pulse pounded. "I need to leave."
She tilted her head. "You already did."
The words made no sense. Daniel's fingers curled against the restraints, his breathing uneven. "What—what day is it?"
The nurse blinked. Once. Slowly.
And then—
"You've been here the whole time."
Daniel's stomach turned.
"No." His voice cracked. "That's not possible."
A flicker of something—almost amusement—passed through the nurse's expression. "Isn't it?"
She stepped aside, revealing a metal tray.
On it—
A file.
Familiar. Worn.
His file.
But this time, the label was different.
It didn't say Daniel Whitaker.
It didn't say Elias Wren.
It just said—
> Patient: #019
Daniel's breath hitched.
Room 19.
The patient was never a person.
The patient was the room.
---
**The Doctor That Doesn't Exist**
A door creaked open.
Another figure stepped in.
A man in a crisp suit.
Daniel recognized him instantly.
Mnemosyne.
The man adjusted his cuffs, his cold eyes scanning Daniel like he was nothing more than a failed experiment.
"You're awake."
Daniel's jaw tightened. "I was never asleep."
A hint of a smile. "That's debatable."
Daniel struggled against the restraints. "What do you want?"
The man stepped closer. "You already know."
A tablet buzzed in his hand. He turned it toward Daniel.
On the screen—
Security footage.
Daniel's chest tightened.
It was him.
Walking into the chapel.
Alone.
Hours before the confession.
No.
No, that wasn't right.
The confessor was real. The body was real. The blood was real.
Wasn't it?
The man tapped the screen.
Another clip.
Daniel standing in the police station.
Daniel unlocking the safe in his church office.
Daniel staring at the empty space where the diary should have been.
Always alone.
The man studied him carefully. "What do you remember?"
Daniel's head ached. "I—" He swallowed hard. "I remember a man confessing. I remember finding a body."
The man didn't blink.
"Are you sure?"
Daniel hesitated.
Was he?
The memories were slipping. Warping.
He gritted his teeth. "I know what I saw."
The man stepped back, satisfied. "Good."
He set the tablet down. "Now tell me—"
He nodded toward the IV in Daniel's arm.
"What did we make you forget?"
---
**The Memory That Shouldn't Exist**
Pain lanced through Daniel's skull.
Memories—distorted, shattered—flashed in fragments.
A gun.
A scream.
Blood.
His own voice whispering—
> "I killed a man."
Daniel clenched his fists, his vision blurring. "No."
The man in the suit watched, intrigued. "Go on."
Daniel gritted his teeth. "I didn't kill anyone."
The man arched a brow. "That's not what the security footage says."
The screen flickered again.
Another clip.
Daniel. In the confessional booth.
Alone.
Talking to nothing.
Talking to no one.
His own voice echoed in the empty room—
> "I killed a man."
Daniel's chest tightened. "That's not real."
The man's voice was calm. "Isn't it?"
Daniel's mind spun.
The confession.
The police.
The investigation.
The missing diary.
What if none of it happened?
What if it was all planted?
His breath came fast, uneven. "Why… why would you do this?"
The man leaned forward.
"Because you asked us to."
Daniel froze.
A long silence.
He forced himself to speak. "That's a lie."
The man smiled. "Is it?"
A single piece of paper slid onto the table.
Daniel's signature.
His own handwriting.
At the bottom of a contract.
Mnemosyne Protocol.
Requesting his own memory erasure.
His pulse pounded. His vision blurred.
The man's voice was distant now, like it was slipping away.
"Welcome back, Father."
The restraints tightened.
Daniel's world fractured.
And then—
Everything went black.
---
**The Fractured Eye**
When Daniel opened his eyes, he was no longer in Room 19.
He was in a hallway.
Endless. Stretching in both directions.
The walls were lined with doors, each marked with a number.
19.
19.
19.
Every door was the same.
The air was thick, suffocating.
A faint hum filled the space, like the buzz of fluorescent lights.
Daniel's footsteps echoed as he walked, his body moving on its own.
He stopped in front of one of the doors.
The handle was cold.
He turned it.
Inside—
A mirror.
But it wasn't his reflection staring back.
It was Elias Wren.
His hollow eyes locked onto Daniel's.
"You're running out of time."
Daniel's breath hitched. "What do you want?"
Elias smiled. "To remind you."
The mirror shattered.
And Daniel fell.
---