The hallway was normal again.
Too normal.
Lights steady.
Machines humming.
Distant footsteps returning like nothing had ever happened.
But he knew better.
He stood there a moment longer.
Listening.
Not with his ears.
With something else.
That… presence.
Still there.
Not close.
Not far.
Just—
watching.
He exhaled slowly and turned.
Walking back toward the room.
Each step felt heavier now.
Not because of pain.
Because of awareness.
The world felt…
different.
Sharper.
Too sharp.
The door creaked open.
Inside—
the nurse froze.
"You shouldn't be out of bed."
Her voice was firm.
Professional.
But her eyes—
Uncertain.
He looked at her.
Really looked this time.
Her heartbeat.
He could hear it.
Fast.
Her breathing.
Slightly uneven.
Her fingers tightened around the clipboard.
Fear.
He blinked.
And it stopped.
Everything snapped back.
Normal.
"…sorry," he muttered.
He stepped back into the room.
Sat down slowly.
The nurse hesitated—
then stepped in.
"Your vitals dropped earlier," she said, checking the monitor.
"Flatlined. For minutes."
She glanced at him.
"You shouldn't be conscious."
He gave a faint smile.
"I get that a lot today."
She didn't laugh.
Didn't respond.
Just wrote something down.
Then—
quietly—
"Someone asked about you."
His eyes lifted.
"Who?"
She shook her head.
"They didn't give a name."
Pause.
"But security didn't log them either."
Silence.
That wasn't possible.
Unless—
The man.
The one with no reflection.
The nurse stepped back.
"You should rest."
She left.
The door closed.
And just like that—
Silence again.
But not empty.
Never empty.
He leaned back against the bed.
Closed his eyes.
For a second—
just a second—
he tried to remember.
Anything.
A name.
A face.
A reason.
Nothing.
Just—
Darkness.
And that same quiet feeling.
The echo.
Then—
A flicker.
Not outside.
Inside.
A memory.
Fragmented.
Broken.
But real.
Fire.
Not normal fire.
Crimson.
Spreading across something that shouldn't burn.
Voices.
Screaming—
but not in pain.
In warning.
"Don't let it wake—"
The memory snapped.
His eyes flew open.
Breathing sharp.
Cold sweat.
The room felt smaller.
Tighter.
"…what was that?"
No answer.
But the echo pulsed.
Stronger.
Almost…
pleased.
The monitor beside him spiked.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep—
Faster.
The lights flickered again.
This time—
not the whole hallway.
Just his room.
The window.
He looked toward it.
City skyline beyond.
Rain starting again.
But in the glass—
His reflection…
Lagged.
Just for a second.
It moved—
after him.
Not with him.
He froze.
The reflection tilted its head slightly.
Not matching him anymore.
"…no."
The word came out low.
Controlled.
The reflection smiled.
He didn't.
The echo surged.
Violent.
Unstable.
The glass cracked.
A thin line.
Spreading.
The monitor screamed.
Flatline.
Again.
Outside—
nurses rushed.
Footsteps.
Voices.
Inside—
Silence.
Absolute.
Then—
The reflection whispered.
Not aloud.
Inside him.
"You're starting to remember."
The crack spread wider.
The smile remained.
"That's when it gets worse."
The door burst open.
Light flooded in.
And the reflection—
snapped back to normal.
He gasped—
air rushing into his lungs again.
The monitor spiked back to life.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
"Stay with us!"
Hands on him.
Voices overlapping.
But he wasn't listening.
Couldn't.
Because now—
he knew.
He didn't come back alone.