Chapter 14 - 2:13 A.M.
At exactly 2:13, every reflective surface in Bellweather turned black.
Windows.
Phones.
Television screens.
Chrome fixtures.
Residents screamed on lower floors.
Harris activated the fire alarm.
“Everyone out!”
Not elevator.
Stairs.
The ninth-floor hallway turned red.
Ethan and his double ran side by side.
At 9C, Ethan heard his mother.
“Sweetheart.”
Both stopped.
She stood at the far end of the hall.
Warm smile.
Alive.
One Ethan cried.
The other whispered:
“Don’t.”
Mother opened her arms.
“You were always enough.”
The most precious memory.
Weaponized.
Ethan understood.
The phenomenon did not know love.
It knew which memory opened the door.
He looked at his double.
Then both said:
“She’s dead.”
The mother smiled.
Too wide.
Then vanished.
The red hallway began filling with doubles.
Residents.
Harris.
Ethans.
Dozens.
Harris shouted:
“KEEP MOVING!”
They reached the stairwell.
Then Ethan stopped.
“What about 9B?”
Harris looked back.
Black light pulsed from the doorway.
“If we leave it, this starts again.”
They returned.
Inside, the mirror was breaking.
Margaret stood behind it.
So did Lucas.
Jason.
Everyone trapped by years of choosing originals and copies.
Harris placed both hands on the glass.
“Go.”
Margaret smiled.
“Come with me.”
Harris looked at Ethan.
He knew what she meant.
Not death.
Not exactly.
Release.
He had spent twenty-one years managing a building because leaving felt like abandoning her.
Now the building had made that guilt into a job.
Harris whispered:
“Margaret.”
Then turned away from the mirror.
“No.”
Her smile widened.
Good.
He had finally refused the lure.
The mirror shattered without exploding.
It simply collapsed inward like black water.
No gore.
No flying glass.
Every reflected face disappeared.
May you like
The two Ethans fell to the floor.
When Ethan woke, only one of them was there.
