The Well Part 4

Six Months Earlier…

Before I hit the ground, I woke.

The impact traveling through me, sharply through my mid-section.

My ribs felt deboned as my teeth clenched holding back a scream.
My fingers still curled like it was holding onto the memory of the last ledge.

Only now the ledge was gone. It was just dirt. Damp, cold, unsteady. Breathing.

I sat up.

The familiar glow and wires of the laptop were gone.
Only the memory of the SD cards and its contents remained. It was—just dark.

Silence was only broken by breathing. It felt like mine, but it wasn’t mine.

The air was thick again, but different.
Less like gravity, more like a memory I hadn't earned yet.

I turned.

The figure was still there.
Only closer, moving without moving forward.

And this time it moved not forward, but away from where I was.

Towards a light I hadn't noticed.
My eyes crusted like I was crying.

At first it wasn’t strong. It pulsed.
Like something struggling to stay alive. Or something trying to remember how.

I followed.

Each step felt like walking through pages I hadn’t read yet.
But the ground knew my feet. It rose to meet them.

The passage narrowed. Then opened.

A chamber.

Circular. Tall. With markings on the walls I couldn’t understand but somehow knew were about me.

Photos were taped to the stone.
Photos I had taken. Or would take.

Each one was scratched. Warped. Dated with the same impossible text:

Six Months Earlier.

And in the center: a mirror.

Cracked.

I stepped forward.

The figure stood behind me now.
But I could only see it in the mirror.
It looked older.
Not by age. But by wear.

I opened my mouth.
It did too.

But it didn’t mimic. It spoke first.

"You left something here."

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

Because I was already reaching for the mirror.

And I knew what came next.

The scream.

Only this time, I didn’t hear it.

I became it.