Chapter — The Back Way (Slowly)
A door that wasn’t there before • The rain that remembers • The reflection that follows
Dio steps back. The mirror ripples, offended, the grin dimming like a bulb about to burst. The voice shifts from honey to static. “You’ll come back,” it says. “They always do.”
The air tightens. The hum in the glass becomes a heartbeat, not his own. For a moment he sees his reflection reach forward,not to grab him, but to plead.
He turns and moves toward the rear hallway. The bell above the pawnshop door finally stops ringing. The silence that follows is worse.
The back corridor smells like rot and rain. Shelves lean toward him like spectators. A single exit sign flickers ahead, its letters bleeding red through the mist. He moves slowly, heel to toe, counting each step under his breath.
Somewhere behind him, glass cracks. A whisper follows, not words, but the sound of charcoal dragged across paper. He doesn’t look back. He can’t.
The exit door sighs open, and cold air pours in. Outside, the rain feels heavier, older. The street is empty. But the puddles at his feet shimmer with a faint red glow — the neon OPEN sign, still flickering behind him, reflected perfectly even though the pawnshop’s windows are dark.