Chapter 3 — The Girl in White
Side room • Polaroids like fallen leaves • A timestamp that says “now”
Behind a half ajar steel door, she sits cross legged on the cold concrete. Lilith. The air around her smells like ozone and old film, sharp and electric. A circle of Polaroids fans out at her feet, hundreds of them. Faces frozen mid laugh, mid scream, mid fade. The colors bleed at the edges as if they are trying to escape the frame.
One photo lies apart from the rest. It is him. The timestamp reads 11:06 PM, now. His breath catches. The ink on it has not even dried.
Lilith looks up slowly, her eyes reflecting the low blue light that leaks through the cracks in the ceiling. “You can still leave,” she says, her voice steady, almost kind. “Or you can see what is beneath this place.”
The photos around her twitch, edges curling, smoke rising from their corners as if they are exhaling secrets. The hum in the room thickens until it feels alive, like the city itself has a heartbeat, and it is getting closer.
“You can still leave,” she says, “or you can see what’s beneath this place.” The photos curl, edges smoking. The room hums like the city breathing.