REFLECTION

Part 1: The Man in the Mirror

The darkness swallowed everything.

Orion's breath came fast, ragged. His heartbeat pounded in his skull.

The room was gone. The woman was gone.

The mirror was the only thing left.

And in it—

Nothing.

He wasn't there.

His hands trembled as he reached toward the glass. The surface was cold, smooth, solid. But his reflection was missing.

No. No, no, no.

He turned his head quickly—looked at his own hands, his body.

He was here. He could feel himself.

So why couldn't he see himself?

Then—

The mirror flickered.

Orion's stomach lurched.

Because suddenly—

Something was there.

Not his reflection.

Something else.

A shape began to form in the glass.

Tall. Thin. Wrong.

Its head tilted at an unnatural angle, its limbs too long, its fingers stretching too far.

And then—

It moved.

Not in the mirror.

Behind him.

A whisper crawled through his skull.

"You were made for this."

Orion turned—

Too late.

The thing lunged.

And the world shattered.

Part 2: The Other Side

Orion hit the floor hard.

His breath left his lungs in a violent gasp. His vision swam, twisting, breaking—

Something was wrong.

He wasn't in the asylum anymore.

The floor beneath him was wet. Cold. The air was thick with the scent of stagnant water and something rotting.

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up.

The room around him was impossible.

It was an exact replica of his apartment—but drowned.

Water dripped from the ceiling. The furniture was soaked, warped. His couch was covered in thick, black mold. His books were bloated, pages peeling away.

And outside the window—

There was nothing.

Not a city. Not a street.

Just endless, stretching black.

A void.

His chest tightened.

Where was he?

He turned back to the mirror.

And there he was.

His reflection.

Standing. Watching.

But it wasn't copying his movements.

It was grinning.

Orion took a shaky step forward.

His reflection did not.

His throat tightened. "What are you?"

The reflection's lips moved.

No sound.

Then—

It stepped closer.

Closer.

Until its forehead was pressed against the glass.

And then—

It spoke.

"You are not the first."

The glass exploded.

Part 3: The Ones Who Came Before

Shards of mirror rained down, slicing across Orion's arms. He staggered back, his heart hammering.

The reflection was gone.

But something was behind the glass.

A room.

A long, endless corridor, lined with doors.

Orion swallowed hard.

Something in his gut screamed at him not to step through.

But then—

A sound.

Low. Distant.

A heartbeat.

Orion hesitated. His own pulse throbbed against his ribs, but this wasn't his.

This was coming from the corridor.

From behind the doors.

He stepped forward.

One step.

Two.

The mirror was gone now. The broken shards had vanished.

He stood in the corridor.

And the moment he did—

The doors began to rattle.

Part 4: The Names on the Doors

Orion turned in a slow circle. The hallway stretched endlessly in both directions. The walls were warped, wet, breathing.

The doors weren't numbered.

They had names.

His stomach twisted.

Eleanor Finch.

The woman who had died twice.

Orion's eyes darted to the next.

Margaret Holloway.

The witness. The woman who had warned him.

A chill crept through his veins.

He took a shaky step forward, scanning the doors. The names—they were all from the files.

The missing women. The ones who had come back.

And then—

He stopped.

Because the last door had a name that shouldn't be there.

Orion Blackwood.

His hands went cold.

The handle twitched.

Something inside was waiting.

And then—

It knocked.

Part 5: The Man Who Woke Up

Orion swallowed. No. No, this wasn't real.

He reached for the handle. His fingers trembled.

Another knock.

Harder. More desperate.

He braced himself—and yanked the door open.

Inside—

A hospital room.

Familiar. Too familiar.

And in the bed—

A man.

Thin. Pale. Wires hooked into his arms, machines beeping steadily. His face was hollow, his lips cracked.

But Orion recognized him instantly.

It was him.

It was Orion.

And then—

His own eyes opened.

And his own voice whispered:

"Wake up."

Part 6: The Experiment That Never Ended

Orion staggered back.

The man in the bed stared at him.

His own face.

But not just a reflection. A version of him that had been here far longer.

His throat closed.

No. No, this wasn't possible.

But the machines were beeping. The monitors were blinking.

This version of him was real.

Orion's own breath came sharp. "Who—what—"

The man smiled weakly.

"You don't get it yet, do you?" His voice was a whisper, raw from disuse.

Orion shook his head.

The man sighed.

Then, with slow, deliberate effort—

He lifted his arm.

And pulled the hospital gown aside.

A scar.

The exact same scar Orion had woken up with.

His stomach dropped.

The man whispered:

"We were made. And we were never the first."

Part 7: The Failed Versions

Orion's chest constricted.

"We?" he rasped.

The man smiled.

And then—

The doors in the hallway burst open.

Orion spun.

Figures poured out. Staggering. Broken. All of them looked like him.

But wrong.

Some were missing pieces.

Some had too many limbs.

Some didn't have faces.

The world tilted.

And all at once—

They turned toward him.

Part 8: The Voice That Called His Name

Orion's lungs locked.

The twisted versions of himself moved closer.

Too many of them.

The man in the bed smiled.

"You were supposed to replace me," he whispered. "Just like I replaced the one before me."

Orion's vision blurred.

No.

And then—

A voice called his name.

Not from the hallway.

From inside his own head.

And it whispered:

"RUN."

Then the world collapsed.