It was raining again.
Not the kind of soft, comforting rain you hear in poems—but sharp, cold, and biting. Like the sky had a personal grudge against me. I let it soak through my hoodie, drip down my neck, and sting my fingers. I didn't care. I hadn't cared in years.
The gates of Seraphim Laboratories stood in front of me—taller than I remembered, rusted through and leaning like they'd given up. I stared at them for a second, gripping the crumpled letter in my pocket.
"You left something behind. Come alone."
No name. No sender. Just that and a smudge in the corner. It looked like dried blood. Or ink. I didn't check too hard.
I told myself it was just a prank. A cruel joke. But I came anyway.
The chain on the gates wasn't cut—it had unraveled, like it had melted in someone's hands. I pushed it open and stepped inside.
The place was worse than I remembered. Vines choked the walls. The windows were shattered. The lights above the entrance flickered on as I walked up, like they recognized me. Like they'd been waiting.
SERAPHIM LABORATORIES — ADVANCING HUMANITY THROUGH INNOVATION
Someone had tagged "LIES" in bright red across the sign.
I didn't laugh, but something inside me wanted to.
I pulled my hood down and pushed open the front doors. They groaned loud enough to wake the dead.
The second I stepped in, the air changed.
Colder. Heavier. Like I'd walked into deep water. My breath came out in clouds, even though it was July. I flicked on my flashlight. The beam sliced through the dark like a scalpel.
Everything was still.
But the mirrors weren't.
I passed one bolted to the wall and caught something in the corner of my eye. I froze. My reflection… was off. Not mimicking me exactly.
It was staring.
Still.
Smiling.
I spun around. Nothing behind me.
I looked back at the mirror.
It hadn't moved.
It just stood there—I just stood there—smiling like it knew something I didn't.
Then it blinked.
I didn't.
My fingers clenched around the flashlight.
THUMP
A loud crash echoed from down the hall. I whipped toward the noise, heart punching against my ribs. Silence followed.
When I looked back at the mirror, it was empty.
Just an old, cracked surface staring back at nothing.
I moved deeper into the building. The old labs were wrecked—glass shattered, papers soaked, lights dead. More mirrors lined the hallways. Some clean. Some fogged.
Most… wrong.
Sometimes I saw myself.
Sometimes I saw nothing at all.
I stopped in the chamber.
The chamber.
The one I woke up in five years ago—burned, alone, and surrounded by bodies.
I didn't remember much from that day. Just the smell of smoke. The sound of screaming. My own name scribbled on a clipboard. And then the silence that followed. Heavy, suffocating silence.
I stood in the center and let the letter fall from my fingers.
Let them come.
Whatever "they" were.
The lights overhead flickered.
A whisper slipped into the room—low, raspy, and wrong.
"Welcome back, Subject Zero-One."
I turned.
And there I was.
In the mirror. Watching me.
This time… it blinked first.
My first instinct was to run.
But I didn't. I just stood there, locked in a stare with my own reflection.
Only… it wasn't really mine, was it?
The thing in the mirror looked like me, yes—same black hair, same pale skin, same moss-colored eyes. But there was something hollow in its expression, something hungry. It tilted its head like a curious animal watching prey it wasn't quite done studying.
Then it smiled again.
Not wide.
Not toothy.
Just… wrong.
My chest tightened. I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
Then the lights went out.
Total black.
I raised my flashlight in a panic, but it flickered and buzzed like it was choking, barely staying alive.
I spun in a slow circle, the beam trembling with my hand. Everything was shadows. Everything whispered. The mirrors… the mirrors were whispering.
Low, layered voices. Dozens of them. All in my tone. All murmuring things I didn't want to hear.
> "You forgot."
"You let them die."
"It was your fault."
"No," I whispered.
My voice sounded like someone else's.
I took a step back, hitting something cold and smooth behind me. A mirror.
Of course.
I turned slowly. My flashlight dimmed further, barely a flicker now.
And in that dying glow, I saw it again.
Me.
But not just me.
This time, my reflection was moving.
It reached up and touched the glass, its fingers aligning with mine—but I hadn't moved. I wasn't touching anything.
Then it opened its mouth.
I held my breath.
> "Let me in."
That's all it said.
Soft.
Pleading.
And then—it slammed its hands against the glass from the inside. Over and over. Each hit cracked the surface a little more.
I stumbled back. My flashlight gave one last breath of light before it died completely, plunging me into pitch black.
I didn't scream.
I couldn't.
Instead, I ran.
The halls twisted. The floor groaned under every step. The building felt alive. Hungry. I could feel it watching me through every shattered mirror, every cracked monitor, every vent that breathed cold air down my neck.
I turned corners I didn't remember. Passed rooms I swore weren't there before. At one point, I swear I saw a figure in a lab coat just standing at the end of a hallway, face obscured by shadow, but I didn't stop to look twice.
I just kept running—until I hit the locked door.
The metal slammed into my shoulder. Hard.
I gritted my teeth and tried the handle. It didn't budge.
Behind me, I heard the sound of shattering glass.
A mirror breaking.
Then another.
Then another.
Then a laugh—a low, echoing sound that seemed to come from inside my head.
I fumbled for something—anything—and found a small keypad by the door. The screen flickered to life, flashing a message in faded green:
> ENTER SUBJECT ID
My fingers hesitated.
Then I typed it.
Zero-One.
The screen blinked, then the door hissed open.
Without thinking, I threw myself inside and slammed it shut.
Silence.
The room was small, dark, sterile. But it was empty. Blessedly empty.
For now.
I slid down against the wall, chest heaving, skin cold, eyes burning. My heart wouldn't calm. My thoughts were screaming.
What the hell was happening here?
What had they done to me back then?
What had I forgotten?
And most of all…
Why was I still alive when no one else was?
The overhead light sputtered on suddenly, revealing the words etched into the wall across from me, scratched in deep:
> "YOU CAN'T RUN FROM A REFLECTION THAT THINKS IT'S REAL."
I didn't sleep that night.
And somehow, I knew…
The lab hadn't even begun showing me what it remembered.