"The blade doesn't choose the strong. It chooses the hollow. The ones already carved open by pain."
— Session #18, Unknown Voice
I didn't sleep.
Not because of nightmares.
Because I was afraid I'd wake up and realize the monster wasn't in the blade.
It was in me.
The day after Session #17: Awakening, everything changed. The knife no longer waited for me. It followed. It spoke. Not in words—but in pulses, memories, and urges that weren't mine.
Every time someone laughed in the hallway…
Every time someone whispered "that's her" behind my back…
I felt it.
The hum.
Like a static charge under my skin, begging for a release. And I was running out of excuses not to give in.
The Locker.
It happened again.
Second period. Hallway. A scream.
Everyone ran to the sound. I didn't.
I walked.
Because I already knew.
Locker #316.
Caleb's.
It was dripping.
Blood pooled like syrup at the base. Inside? A rabbit. Gutted. Pinned to the back wall with rusted nails. Its eyes were missing. In their place—marbles. My favorite kind. Swirled red and black.
Taped to its chest was a message in jagged handwriting:
"Session #18: Silence is earned."
My name wasn't on it.
But it didn't have to be.
I knew the blade was teaching me now.
One lesson at a time.
The Psych Ward File.
I broke into Dr. Lysa's office.
Yeah, yeah—therapy boundaries and all that. But I had to know what she thought. What she knew.
Her cabinet was locked. Duh.
But the keys were under the potted plant. Because of course, they were.
I found my file.
Labeled: "Patient 487B – Risk Level: Obscured."
Not "High." Not "Low."
Obscured.
Inside: pages of observations. Drawings I didn't remember doing. Scribbles. Knives. A symbol I had never seen before but instantly understood—it was the same one carved into the rabbit.
She had been watching me.
But she didn't know how much I was watching back.
The Mirror Room.
That night, I returned to the mansion.
Yeah, the cops taped it off. Who cares? Dead men don't press charges, and Uncle Tom was just a decaying pile of secrets by now.
I needed answers.
I needed more.
Down in the basement, something called to me.
I ripped away the wallpaper behind the torture chair—yes, that chair.
Behind it, another door.
Smaller. Hidden.
I had to crawl through it, hands scraping against stone, breath echoing off the narrow tunnel like I was crawling through a throat.
It opened into a room lined with mirrors.
Floor to ceiling.
A single chair in the center.
A knife on the floor.
I stepped in.
The door behind me slammed shut.
And every reflection turned to look at me.
Not just look—sneer.
My face. But wrong. Too wide. Eyes too dark. Smiling like a stitched-up wound.
The voice echoed again.
"Session #19: Acceptance."
Then the mirrors started speaking.
All at once.
"You wanted this."
"You're not the victim."
"You're the legacy."
"You didn't survive the curse. You inherited it."
I screamed.
The mirrors didn't shatter.
I did.
Bloodroot.
After that, the dreams got worse.
I saw them.
The others.
Children. Teenagers. All like me.
The ones who came before. The ones Tom couldn't "save."
One girl had no mouth.
One boy had no hands.
One… had my face.
They whispered things I didn't understand. In a language older than the basement, older than the knife.
I woke up with blood under my nails.
But not mine.
The School Fire.
You heard about it, right?
Everyone did.
"Tragic gas explosion in the janitor's closet."
Four injured. One missing.
Guess who?
Liam Tate.
He made the mistake of joking that my "trauma was probably fake for TikTok views."
Now?
His locker is ash. His name tag melted into the floor.
And me?
I wasn't even at school that day.
I had a "therapy appointment."
How convenient.
The Tape Recorder.
Session #20 wasn't on the laptop.
It was in my own voice.
I found the recorder under my bed. Already playing. Already rewinding.
I never remembered pressing record.
But it said my name.
Over and over.
"My name is Ron."
"My name is the blade."
"My name is the echo of silence."
"My name is the answer to pain."
"My name is not mine anymore."
I dropped the recorder.
It kept playing.
The Final Cut.
Dr. Lysa said I was doing "much better."
She smiled.
I smiled back.
But I saw her reflection twitch in the glass behind her. Just for a second.
The same twitch Tom had.
She touched her necklace. A silver pendant.
The symbol.
The same one carved into the rabbit.
The same one I'd drawn in blood without realizing.
She knew.
She knew.
So I hugged her.
And I took it.
The pendant.
The warmth.
The key.
Now?
I'm back at the mansion.
The knife sings.
The blade hums like a lullaby from the grave.
And I'm ready.
To begin Session #21.
To Be Continued…
The monster is no longer in the shadows.
She's looking back at you. From the mirror.
And this time, she knows your name.