ECHOES OF ME

Lena blinked.

She was still here.

The kitchen. The coffee. Mark at the table.

The loop was still resetting.

No.

Not this time.

She clenched her fists. The house twisted reality, but there had to be a way out. A way to break it.

She turned to the mirror.

Her older reflection was waiting. Hollow-eyed. Desperate.

"How do I stop this?" Lena whispered.

The reflection lifted a shaking hand—and pointed behind her.

Lena turned.

Mark was standing. Waiting.

Not blinking.

Not Mark.

The house fed on her. On her fear.

So what if she stopped being afraid?

Lena exhaled. Slowly. Deliberately.

Mark moved.

But she didn't flinch.

His head tilted. The air shivered.

Doubt.

For the first time, the loop hesitated.

She ran.

Through the twisting halls, through the shifting doors—toward anything that wasn't here.

The house howled. The walls cracked, fighting to hold her in.

Lena saw the front door—wide open.

Waiting.

She threw herself through it.

And fell.

Not onto the porch.

Not outside.

Into darkness.

A crushing, endless void.

She hit the ground—hard.

Grass.

Cold air.

Lena gasped, coughing, her fingers clawing at damp earth. Outside.

She was outside.

The house loomed behind her. Silent. Motionless.

She was free.

A shaky laugh escaped her lips. She pushed herself up—

And froze.

Something was wrong.

Her hands—

They were wrinkled.

Her skin—papery.

Her breath caught. She turned, catching her reflection in the house's window.

Older.

Hollow-eyed.

Just like the reflection in the mirror.

She had escaped.

But time hadn't.

She had been trapped for years.

And now—the house had let her go.

Her laughter died in her throat.

Behind the window, in the darkened glass—

A younger Lena stood.

Staring.

Reaching.

Mouth moving in a silent plea.

Lena backed away.

The house breathed.

And the door creaked open again.

Waiting for its next victim.

⸻

The End.