Through the Cracks

The next morning came grey and still. Outside Liam's window, the world looked normal—too normal. Like it was holding its breath.

The five of them sat around the kitchen table again, the CD case placed squarely between them. They hadn't slept much. Each of them had heard strange sounds in the night—whispers behind walls, soft tapping on windows, flickers of movement in mirrors. The kind of things you told yourself weren't real, until they were.

"We need to find a way to play this," Harry said.

"There's nothing in it," Louis reminded him. "It's just an empty case."

Harry shook his head slowly. "Not anymore."

He slid a hand across the case, flipped it open—and there it was.

A single, gleaming disc. Perfectly clean. No title. No track list. Just the faint reflection of the five of them, staring back.

"I checked this last night," Niall said. "It was empty."

"It wasn't ready yet," Liam murmured. "It's changing with us. With our memories."

They stared at the disc in silence.

Zayn stood and retrieved an old portable CD player from a box in the closet. He placed the disc inside and pressed play.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—soft static.

A faint melody, like piano keys played underwater.

Then a voice.

Roxy's voice.

"Liam, I don't know how much time I have. I don't know where I am. I think she's keeping me here—wherever here is. Please… remember who you are. Remember the band. You were part of something bigger. You all were."

Liam froze. His mouth opened slightly, breath caught in his throat.

"She's afraid of your memories. That's why she's trying to keep you from unlocking them. But I remember you. I remember you all. You're One Direction. You weren't meant to be pulled away. She did this. She needed you to forget. And now…"

There was a sound in the background—like something slamming, a whisper, something being dragged.

"She found me."

The audio cut.

The room erupted in motion.

"Did you hear that?" Niall shouted. "She has Roxy!"

"She's using her to control us," Harry said. "To keep us confused."

Liam was already grabbing his coat. "We're getting her back."

Zayn held up a hand. "We don't even know how to get to her."

Louis turned the CD case over. The message was still there—Track 1: Begin to Remember. But below it, in the faintest red ink, new words had appeared.

"Find the mirror. Open the door. The in-between waits."

Harry whispered the words aloud. "Find the mirror…"

"We need to go back to the studio," Liam said. "It all started there. That's where the crack is."

—

The studio was empty when they arrived.

Dead quiet.

It smelled of dust and electricity. Harry led the way, his footsteps echoing too loudly on the concrete floors. When they entered the main recording space, the air shifted—thicker, colder, like walking underwater.

The mirror on the far wall—long, rectangular, slightly warped—was no longer just a reflection.

Something shimmered inside it.

A doorway.

A crack.

As they stepped closer, they could see shapes behind the glass. Trees. Fog. A familiar path. It was the forest again—but not quite the same. Colors seemed too vivid, edges too sharp. And then—

A shadow passed behind the glass.

A tall figure. Watching.

The Watcher.

Louis took an instinctive step back. "She's waiting."

Liam didn't move. His eyes were locked on the mirror.

"She has Roxy," he said. "She wants us to come in."

"She's baiting you," Zayn warned.

"I don't care," Liam said. "We can't leave her there."

"We need a plan," Niall added.

But it was too late. The glass rippled like water—and Liam stepped through.

The rest of them exchanged a single look—fear, loyalty, love—and then followed.

—

They emerged into the forest.

But it wasn't the forest from before. It was sharper now, darker, as if the place had aged in their absence. The air was colder. Time moved strangely here. The trees creaked not with wind, but with memory.

"Where is she?" Liam whispered.

Then they heard it.

Singing.

A woman's voice. Distant. Echoing through the trees.

It wasn't words—it was more like a lullaby, haunting and slow.

"That's Roxy," Liam said. "I'd know her voice anywhere."

They ran.

Branches scraped at them as they moved, the path twisting, unfamiliar even in its familiarity. The song grew louder. And then—

They found the clearing.

At the center stood a tall mirror—freestanding, framed in black iron. Suspended behind the glass was Roxy.

Her face was calm, almost peaceful. But her eyes—her eyes were wide with fear.

She saw them.

Her lips moved.

But no sound came out.

Liam ran to her, slamming his hands on the glass. "Roxy! Roxy, I'm here!"

A ripple passed through the mirror—but Roxy remained trapped.

Then, a second voice echoed from the trees.

Cold. Inhuman.

"You're not ready."

The Watcher stepped forward, tall and faceless, emerging from the shadows. Her limbs were wrong, bending in unnatural ways. Her skin wasn't skin—it shimmered like glass, shifting with fractured reflections.

"She stays until you remember."

Liam's jaw clenched. "We're remembering more every day."

"Not enough."

Zayn stepped beside him. "What do you want from us?"

The Watcher tilted her head, almost curiously.

"You were not supposed to wake up. I gave you new lives. Perfect distractions. And still, you clawed your way back."

"You took everything from us," Harry said. "You stole who we were."

"I gave you peace. And you left it behind."

Louis stepped forward. "Let her go. Now."

The Watcher didn't respond. She turned and vanished back into the trees.

The mirror pulsed.

Roxy slammed her palm against the glass from inside, finally finding her voice—but the sound was still muffled, distorted.

"Liam! It's not just me—she has others! She's collecting people from your memories. From your lives!"

The glass darkened.

The mirror cracked.

One long, spider-webbing fracture split across it.

And Roxy disappeared.

"NO!" Liam roared, pounding on the mirror.

But it was empty again.

The others pulled him back just as the forest began to twist—branches warping, the sky bleeding red at the edges.

"We have to go," Niall shouted. "Now!"

The mirror behind them—the one they'd come through—was starting to shimmer again. But this time, it looked unstable, flickering, fighting to stay open.

They dove through it one by one—Harry, Zayn, Louis, Niall—and Liam last, casting one final look at the empty forest.

I'm coming for you, he promised.

And then the mirror sealed shut behind them.

—

Back in the studio, the boys collapsed on the floor, gasping.

The mirror was still.

No more shimmer.

No more door.

"She's alive," Liam breathed. "We saw her. She's real."

"But now we know more," Harry said. "She's not just watching. She's collecting us."

Louis wiped sweat from his forehead. "She's scared of something. Us. Our memories."

Zayn nodded slowly. "Then we keep remembering. We break the illusions. One by one."

Niall looked toward the mirror. "Before she builds a world we can't escape from."