Chapter 04: A Fractured Reflection
Elaine Harper sat in her car outside her office, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The photograph was still in her bag, tucked away as if burying it could erase what she had seen. Her mind replayed the moment over and over—the smirk on the man’s face, the way the photo seemed to change before her eyes.
You’re imagining things, she told herself. Stress, lack of sleep. That’s all it is.
But the whisper of her name lingered in her ears, no matter how hard she tried to silence it.
Taking a deep breath, she started the car and headed home. The city streets were bustling, the usual evening traffic humming around her. The normalcy should have been comforting, but every shadow seemed longer, every movement on the sidewalk sharper. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.
Back at her apartment, Elaine locked the door and turned on every light in the living room. The cozy space, decorated with soft blues and whites, felt suffocating tonight. She set her bag on the dining table and stared at it, debating whether to pull out the photograph again.
Instead, she poured herself a glass of water and sank onto the couch, her mind buzzing with unanswered questions.
Michael and Charlotte weren’t just cases anymore. They were pieces of a puzzle she couldn’t yet see the shape of. The connections—Michael’s memories, Charlotte’s dreams, the man in the blue jacket—were too specific to ignore.
She pulled her laptop onto her lap and opened the forum thread she had found earlier, scrolling through the posts. One in particular caught her attention, a reply to LostInEchoes:
“I’ve seen him too. The man in the blue jacket. He appears in my dreams, but lately, I’ve started seeing him in reflections. Mirrors, windows, even puddles. He’s always watching.”
Elaine’s stomach turned. She closed the laptop and leaned back, trying to collect herself. This wasn’t just a psychological phenomenon. Something deeper, something darker, was at play.
That night, Elaine struggled to sleep. She tossed and turned, her mind refusing to settle. When sleep finally came, it was restless, fragmented by strange dreams.
She was in her office, but it wasn’t her office. The walls were darker, the furniture mismatched, and the air was heavy with a faint, metallic scent. She sat at her desk, staring at the photograph.
The man in the blue jacket stood before her, his face obscured by shadows.
“You don’t belong here,” he said, his voice hollow and echoing.
Elaine tried to speak, but no words came. Her body felt paralyzed, her mind screaming as he leaned closer.
“You can’t run from this.”
Suddenly, the walls of the office began to collapse, folding inward like a house of cards. Elaine woke with a start, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.
The room was dark, but a faint glow caught her attention. She turned her head and froze.
The photograph was on her bedside table, though she was certain she had left it in her bag. The man’s face stared at her, the smirk now a full, sinister grin.
A sound broke the silence—a faint tap, tap, tap.
Elaine’s eyes darted to the window. Her heart raced as she saw a shadow move across the glass. The tapping grew louder, more insistent.
She didn’t move. Fear rooted her to the spot.
“Elaine,” a voice whispered, low and guttural.
Her breath caught as the shadow grew larger, its form almost human but distorted, like a reflection in rippling water.
The tapping stopped, replaced by silence so profound it pressed against her ears.
And then, just as suddenly, it was gone.
Morning brought little relief. Elaine felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. The events of the night clung to her, weighing heavily on her as she prepared for the day.
She arrived at her office early, determined to make sense of what was happening. As she settled at her desk, she noticed something strange.
Michael’s and Charlotte’s case files were sitting on her desk, though she didn’t recall leaving them there. A note was tucked between the folders.
In jagged handwriting, it read:
“It’s not just them. It’s you.”
Elaine’s blood ran cold. Her hands trembled as she picked up the files, flipping through them. There were additional notes scrawled in the margins—notes she hadn’t written.
“Dreams bleed into reality.”
“The blue jacket is the key.”
“She’s losing herself.”
The last line stopped her cold:
“The reflection isn’t hers anymore.”
A wave of nausea hit her, and she stumbled to the restroom. Splashing cold water on her face, she avoided looking at the mirror, afraid of what she might see.
This can’t be happening.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, jolting her from her thoughts. It was Amir.
“Elaine,” he said, his voice urgent. “I need you to listen to me. I’ve been doing some research, and I think I know what’s happening.”
“What?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“It’s not just Michael or Charlotte,” Amir said. “This… phenomenon, whatever it is, it’s spreading. And Elaine, it’s affecting you too.”
She gripped the phone tighter. “What do you mean?”
“The man in the blue jacket,” Amir said. “He’s not just in their dreams. He’s in yours too, isn’t he?”
Elaine’s throat tightened. “How do you know that?”
“Because that’s how it starts,” Amir said grimly. “The dreams, the visions, the whispers. Elaine, you need to get out of there. Now.”
Before she could respond, the line went dead.
Elaine lowered the phone, her reflection in the mirror catching her eye.
The woman staring back at her wasn’t her.
Her lips moved, forming words Elaine couldn’t hear. Then, the reflection smiled.
