The ticking of the antique clock in Adrian's office was slow, deliberate—too deliberate. The sound filled the silence between them, a metronome measuring the weight of the unspoken. Every tick echoed through the room.
Daniel Reeves sat across from him, posture unnaturally still, hands resting on his lap. He hadn't fidgeted once since walking into the room. No nervous tapping, no shifting in his seat. Just... stillness.
It was unnatural.
Most patients fidgeted when placed in an unfamiliar setting. Even the most guarded of minds, betrayed themselves in subtle ways—a darting glance, a tightened jaw, a clenched fist or even the slightest fidget of fingers.
But Daniel's body showed no tells. Only his eyes moved, dark and deep, staring at Adrian like he was trying to see past him, through him.
Adrian tapped his pen against the notepad before setting it down.
"Are you comfortable, Daniel?"
A long silence.
Then: "Are you?"
The answer caught Adrian off guard. He kept his expression unreadable.
"I should be asking you that."
Another pause. Then, a quiet hum.
"Maybe we're both uncomfortable."
Adrian's grip on his pen tightened.
A deflection. He was well-versed in them—patients who built walls with words instead of bricks. The trick wasn't to break the walls down forcefully. It was to find the cracks and deep through them.
"Let's try something simple,"
Adrian said, voice smooth, professional.
"I want you to close your eyes Daniel. Focus on what feels real to you. The first thing that comes to mind."
For a moment, Daniel didn't move.
Then, slowly, his eyelids fluttered shut. His breathing evened out.
The room seemed to grow smaller.
Adrian waited. He knew better than to rush the moment.
Then—Daniel's fingers twitched.
"I see… red."
Adrian leaned forward slightly.
"Red?"
It was the same as before, a repetition. But Adrian could feel that this time, it was different.
Daniel's voice was lower now, softer.
"A dress. Red silk. Flowing when she moves."
Adrian jotted it down. He was right. There was progress. "Who is she?"
A long pause.
Daniel swallowed.
"She's turning away. Walking ahead of me."
"Can you see her face?"
A sharp inhale."No."
"But you know her?"
Silence.
Then, a whisper. "Yes."
Adrian took note of the shift in Daniel's breathing. The faint tremor in his voice. This was real. This wasn't fabricated. For a psychiatrist, every movement mattered and ever flicker gave away a thought.
"Where are you?"
Daniel exhaled, a shuddering breath. "A hallway. Old. Fading wallpaper."
"And she's ahead of you?"
A slow nod.
"Yes. Walking fast. But…"
Adrian frowned.
"But?"
Daniel's fingers clenched against the fabric of his pants. "There's someone behind me."
The temperature in the room seemed to dip.
"Who?"
A pause.
A longer pause.
Then—
"I don't know. But I don't want to turn around."
Adrian felt something cold settle at the base of his spine. "Why not?"
Daniel's hands curled into fists. His knuckles whitened."Because if I look, they'll know I can see them."
The ticking of the clock felt louder.
Adrian swallowed. Something about the way he said it felt… wrong.
Like it wasn't just a memory.
Like..it was a warning.
"Who do you think they are?"
Adrian asked carefully.
Daniel's breathing shallowed. Then, barely audible: "The reflection."
A chill passed through Adrian. "You mean— a mirror?"
Daniel's shoulders tensed. His entire body stiffened, like a marionette whose strings had been yanked.
"I don't like mirrors," he muttered.
Adrian frowned. "Why?"
Daniel's eyes were still closed. His breathing slow, controlled. "Because they... lie."
Adrian scribbled the word 'lie' on his notepad. "Lie about what?" he asked.
Silence.
Then, finally, Daniel opened his eyes.
But for the briefest second—his pupils seemed different. Darker.
Almost like he wasn't just looking at Adrian. Like something else was looking through him.
Then—just as quickly—it was gone.
"I don't remember," Daniel said, voice flat.
A lie. A clean, practiced lie. Adrian knew it.
He sighed and then tapped his pen against the page. That was his second deflection. But why? He decided to shift tactics.
"You mentioned a woman in red," he said. "Does she feel familiar?"
Daniel hesitated. Then, quietly: "Yes."
Adrian leaned forward and he tested.
"Could it be...Emily Caldwell?"
The moment the name was spoken, Daniel twitched. It was a small reaction. Barely noticeable. But Adrian saw it. Recognition.
And Adrian knew he was getting closer.
But instead of answering, Daniel's eyes flickered toward the farthest corner of the room. His shoulders tensed slightly.
Adrian followed his line of sight.
The chair near the bookshelf was empty. But something about the way Daniel was looking at it—as if it wasn't.
Adrian turned back to him. "Daniel?"
Silence. Then—
"There's someone else in the room,"
Daniel whispered.
A chill ran down Adrian's spine and felt adrenune kick in but he kept his voice steady.
"You're seeing someone?"
Daniel's lips barely moved. "Yes."
Adrian felt something shift in the air.
"Who do you see?"
Daniel swallowed. His gaze flickered again toward the empty chair. Then—
"A reflection."
The words hung in the air. Adrian resisted the urge to glance at the chair again. "What do you mean?"
Daniel's eyes darkened slightly.
Then—he shuddered. It wasn't dramatic. It was small—barely noticeable. But it was real.
"I don't like mirrors," he muttered again.
Adrian's pen hovered over the page as his tone went softer. "Why don't you like them, Daniel?"
A long pause. Then—
"Because they don't show me."
Adrian's throat felt dry. "Then who do they show?"
Daniel's gaze flickered to the empty chair one last time.Then, he exhaled.
"I don't want to talk anymore."
Adrian studied him. His breathing was controlled again. His posture—perfectly still.But his fingers… his fingers were trembling. Finally.
Adrian set his pen down and flipped his notepad close. "That's fine," he said. "We'll stop for today."
Daniel nodded absently.But he didn't move.
His eyes remained locked on the empty chair in the corner.
Adrian followed his line of sight once more.
There was nothing there.
But something inside him whispered—Daniel wasn't looking at nothing.
He just wasn't ready to say what.
Yet.
And Adrian was determined to find it out soon.