THE MISSING PIECES

Part 1: The Room That Wasn't There

Orion stood frozen, staring at the writing on the walls.

"YOU WERE NEVER HERE."

His own handwriting.

The boy—his reflection—stood across the room, watching him with his eyes. The same face, the same sharp jawline, but something was wrong.

The other Orion didn't blink. Didn't breathe.

Then, the smile widened.

"You don't remember, do you?"

The voice was his. But not.

Orion's pulse thundered in his ears. "Who are you?"

The boy tilted his head, considering. "A better question," he whispered, "is who are you?"

Orion took a step back. The air was thick, suffocating. He needed to get out. Now.

But before he could move, the room shifted.

The walls began to rot.

The paint curled away in blackened strips. The floorboards cracked, revealing something wet and pulsing beneath them.

And the other Orion—he was still smiling.

"You never left this place."

Then—everything went dark.

Part 2: The Whispering Hallway

Orion's eyes snapped open.

He wasn't in the same room anymore.

He was lying on the floor of a long, decayed corridor. The walls were lined with old, rusted patient doors. The air smelled of antiseptic and something deeper—like bodies left too long in the heat.

A sound filled the hallway.

Whispers.

Not words. Something less human.

He pushed himself up, his breathing uneven. He needed to find a way out.

He passed door after door, each labeled with numbers long faded.

Then he saw it.

At the very end of the corridor—one door stood ajar.

Unlike the others, it wasn't rusted. It wasn't broken.

It was clean.

And from the other side—he heard breathing.

Slow. Raspy.

Not his.

Part 3: The Last Survivor

Orion's fingers hovered over the door handle.

The breathing from inside was shallow, uneven.

Someone was alive in there.

He pushed the door open.

Inside—

A woman sat curled in the corner.

Her clothes were tattered hospital scrubs. Her skin pale, bruised. Her wrists bore faded restraint marks.

And when she lifted her head, Orion's stomach twisted.

He knew her face.

She was one of the women from Mathis's files.

Eleanor Finch.

She was supposed to be dead.

Orion took a careful step forward. "Eleanor?"

Her eyes locked onto his.

Then she shook her head violently.

"No," she rasped. "You need to leave. You need to leave now."

Part 4: The Thing They Saw

Orion crouched down. "Eleanor, listen to me. You're supposed to be dead. They buried you. But you're here."

Her breath hitched.

"They brought me back," she whispered. "Just like they brought you back."

His body went rigid.

"What do you mean?"

Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut. "We all saw it," she murmured. "All of us. The ones who died but didn't stay dead."

A chill ran through Orion's spine. "Saw what?"

Her hands trembled as she grabbed his wrist.

Her voice was barely a breath.

"The thing that lives between life and death."

Orion's throat went dry. "What is it?"

Eleanor's pupils dilated.

"It followed us back."

Then—

A loud crash from outside.

Part 5: The Black Suits

Orion spun toward the door.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the corridor.

Eleanor grabbed his arm. "They know you're here."

"Who?"

Her lips parted—but before she could answer, the door slammed open.

Orion barely had time to react.

Two figures stepped inside.

Dressed in black suits.

Their faces were pale, expressionless. Their eyes—too dark. Too empty.

One of them reached into his coat.

Orion saw the gun a second too late.

A flash of silver—

Eleanor shoved him aside.

The gunshot shattered the silence.

Orion hit the floor hard, pain jolting through his ribs. Eleanor staggered back, a dark stain spreading across her side.

Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

She collapsed.

The taller man cocked the gun again, turning toward Orion.

"No more running."

Part 6: The Door That Shouldn't Exist

Orion's body screamed at him to move.

The man raised the gun—

And then the lights exploded.

Sparks rained down as the hallway plunged into absolute darkness.

Then—a voice.

Not Eleanor's. Not the men in suits.

Something else.

A whisper that slithered across the floor.

"He doesn't belong here."

A deep, suffocating cold filled the room.

And then—

The gunmen started screaming.

Orion scrambled backward as a shadow moved through the dark.

Not a shape. Not a person.

Something else.

The men in suits collapsed, twitching violently. Their mouths stretched open in silent, unnatural horror.

Then—

The door behind Orion opened.

A doorway that hadn't been there before.

And from the other side—

A voice called his name.

Part 7: The Missing Time

Orion stumbled through.

The second he crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him.

He gasped for air—

And realized he was no longer in the asylum.

He was in his apartment.

His body trembled as he pressed his hands against the floor. The floorboards were real. No decay. No shadows shifting beneath them.

It was over.

Or was it?

His phone vibrated on the table.

He grabbed it with shaking hands.

7:45 PM.

The last time he checked the clock, it had been 10 AM.

Somehow, he had lost an entire day.

Part 8: The Scar That Wasn't His

Orion sat on the edge of his bed, his mind spinning.

Had it all been real? The asylum? Eleanor? The gunmen?

His hands were shaking. He rubbed at his arm absently—

Then he froze.

Something was wrong.

He pulled up his sleeve.

A fresh surgical scar ran along his forearm.

His stomach twisted. He didn't remember this.

He didn't remember anything.

His pulse pounded as he traced the wound. The stitches were precise. Deliberate.

Someone had cut him open.

Someone had taken something.

And as he sat there, staring at the unfamiliar scar on his own body—

His phone buzzed again.

One new message.

No sender.

A single word.

"RUN."