The reflection vanished.
In a blink, the woman was gone—replaced by her own wide-eyed face, pale and trembling. Kyra gasped, a dry, fractured sound that barely made it past her lips. Her breath tangled in her throat like it didn't want to leave. The silence closed in, heavy and suffocating, as if the room itself were holding its breath with her.
No. I'm just seeing things... None of this is real. It's all in my mind.
The thoughts spun wild in her mind, crashing into each other. She couldn't pin one down before the next slammed in behind it. The whispers hadn't stopped—they slithered through the corners of her skull, half-heard fragments of something ancient and aching. She stumbled back from the mirror. Her legs felt thin, like paper. She turned and decided to leave the room entirely.
The hallway stretched ahead, dim and silent. She walked like a ghost, barely noticing the creak of floorboards beneath her bare feet. Every door she passed felt like a mouth holding its breath. The kitchen light was off. She reached for the switch
—
"Kyra."
She spun. He stood in the living room's darkness. No lamp. No motion. Just a silhouette with eyes that burned red-rimmed and unblinking. She froze.
"I… I didn't hear you come in," she managed, voice thin and brittle.
He stepped forward. Slowly, like a predator watching its prey.
"You went into my study, didn't you?"
She swallowed. Her skin crawled. Her mouth opened, but her brain couldn't decide what to say.
"I—"
Smack!!
Pain cracked across her face like lightning. She hit the floor hard, her breath ripped from her lungs. Her cheek throbbed, hot and stinging. She blinked up at him, stunned.
He loomed over her, panting.
"All these years," he spat. "I kept you alive. I shielded you from this madness. And you repay me by digging where you don't belong?"
She didn't speak. Couldn't. Her lip trembled, but she forced herself still.
"You think those voices are just madness?" he snarled. "I hear them too. That's why I sealed it all away. You think you're cursed, Kyra? You don't even know what that word means."
She flinched at the way he said her name—like it was filth in his mouth.
"You're just like her…"
Her stomach turned.
"…Just like your mother."
He glared. She couldn't count how many times she'd seen that look of extreme hatred and disappointment on his face. She never asked to be in this world—so why was life always so cruel to her?
He turned on her again, voice breaking.
"She died bringing you into this world, and every day since, you've been a walking reminder of my failure. My shame."
Kyra's throat clenched. For a moment, she waited—for him to take it back. To soften. To regret what he'd said.
But he didn't.
He stared at her like she was nothing. And maybe she was.
"I HATE YOU. MURDERER!" He growled.
She shrank from him, words catching in her chest. That statement wasn't new, but it still broke her heart each time.
"I never asked to be brought into this world," she whispered, her tears pouring down like rain.
"No," he said. "But you are. And that's the curse you brought into this house the day she died."
He pointed at the door.
"Get out."
She froze.
"…What?"
"Out," he barked. "Now. Before you tear this family apart for good."
Her legs didn't move.
He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet.
"You think you're owed love? Pity? I should've left you at the gate the day she died."
And with that—he shoved her.
The door slammed behind her like a final verdict.
The cold of the night swept past her. She didn't know where to go, so she just started walking. The streets were cold and empty—just like how she felt at the moment. She'd lived her whole life trying to make him recognize her, even just once. But he never did. He only saw her as a burden.
She didn't even know how she got to this alley, but her legs got tired, and she sat by a corner with her legs curled up against her face. Her long, beautiful blue hair cascaded down, covering her face as she crouched.
Life had always been so cruel… she thought, then brought out a shimmery blue necklace from her chest. This necklace was the only thing she had from her mother—she never grew up to meet her. Her mother died 20 minutes after Kyra was born. But she believed her mother loved her more than anything else in this world—and that alone was enough to keep her going.
A bitter smile crept up as tears streamed down her face.
"Mother..." her voice came out, barely even a whisper. "I wish you were here."
That was when the necklace let out a soft but brilliant and otherworldly glow.
The glow pulsed—once, twice—then flared so bright she had to shut her eyes.
And when she opened them…
She wasn't alone anymore.