Or something.
I stare at it, heart pounding.
It’s just a blanket.
But it feels like so much more than that.
It’s a reminder. A message.
I’m watching. I’m always watching.
I want to throw it across the room. Burn it. Destroy it.
But I don’t move.
Because part of me—the part that’s exhausted and cold and so tired of fighting—wants to wrap it around myself and pretend it’s comfort instead of control.
I hate that part of me.
But I can’t kill it.
I push to my feet, turning away from the couch, and that’s when I see it.
The mirror.
Full-length, framed in black iron, standing against the far wall.
It wasn’t there before either.
Or maybe it was, and I just didn’t notice.
I approach slowly, warily, like it might bite.
My reflection stares back.
I look… wrong.
Paler than I should be. Hollow-eyed. The shadow marks on my wrists stand out stark against my skin.
And my eyes—
There’s something in them I don’t recognize.
Something darker.
I lean closer, searching for the girl I was before all this. Before the Void. Before Ethos.
She’s not there.
Or maybe she is, but buried so deep I can’t see her anymore.
The mist flickers at the edge of my vision—silver threaded with black—and I jerk back.
The mirror stays still.
But I swear, for just a second, my reflection smiled.
I stumble backward, pressing a hand to my mouth.
