Chapter 3: The Reflection

  I woke up today feeling... strange.

  Not in a bad way. Just oddly relaxed.

  Checked the phone.

  Fourteen hours of sleep.

  That’s insane. But whatever.

  It’s not like I have anything important to do. No job. No classes. No one’s waiting on me.

  Checked WhatsApp—nothing.

  Same on every app. No messages. No notifications.

  I sighed, rolled out of bed, and headed to the bathroom. My stomach and bladder were basically screaming after that coma.

  That’s when I noticed—my phone was almost dead.

  Crap. I forgot to charge it.

  Oh no. I can’t use the bathroom without my phone. How am I supposed to survive without YouTube?!

  Tried waiting for it to charge just a little...

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  Failed. My stomach was winning. I grabbed a cigarette and my lighter and rushed in.

  Sitting there, cigarette lit, I remembered my last session with Dr. Virgil.

  That guy’s a walking mystery. Not your usual therapist.

  First session, he shows up wearing an unbuttoned shirt, bleached hair, smoking like we’re not on a call about my mental breakdown. And yet... I talked to him more honestly than I ever have with anyone.

  I even told him about the mirror thing—how I haven’t seen my reflection in years.

  He just laughed.

  When I asked why, he grinned and said,

  “I know. But I can’t tell you yet.”

  Before I knew it, the session was over.

  He ended with, “Next time, it’ll cost you. A lot. But you’ll want to pay.”

  Then—doorbell rang.

  “Mom! Can you get that? I’m in the bathroom!”

  Few minutes later, she called out,

  “You ordered something! It’s here!”

  “…Did I?”

  Maybe I did and forgot?

  I went to the living room, took the package, opened it.

  It was about the size of a shoebox. Inside—just one thing.

  A mirror.

  Small. Simple. No brand, no note.

  And definitely nothing I’d ever order.

  I took it to my room and opened it properly.

  And then—I froze.

  Wait…

  I could see something.

  My reflection.

  I brought it closer. Hands shaking.

  That’s... me.

  I stared. I couldn’t look away. I hadn’t seen myself in years. Not even by accident.

  Touched my face, my cheeks, my eyes.

  Black hair. Wide brown eyes. Long beard. Pale skin.

  It was real.

  I pulled up old photos on my phone. Still blank. Still no reflection.

  But in this mirror—I was there. Still there.

  Ran to the bathroom.

  Looked in the mirror.

  Nothing.

  Just emptiness.

  ---

  Two Hours Later

  Lying on my bed, mirror still in my hands.

  Even if this was some magical, weird glitch in the world—how did it find me?

  Did Dr. Virgil send it?

  But he doesn’t even know where I live.

  Someone sent it on purpose. No doubt about that.

  Maybe I shouldn’t think so hard. Maybe I should just be glad.

  Glad something, anything, is helping me.

  I lifted the mirror again, slowly, like it was sacred.

  Stared deep into the glass, admiring a face I thought I’d never see again.

  Then—light.

  A soft glow pulsed from the mirror.

  My reflection... smiled.

  But I wasn’t smiling.