Episode 3: The Exchange

Midnight.

The house was silent. No wind, no traffic, not even the hum of the refrigerator. Just me… and the mirror.

I stood in front of it with a hammer in my hand, staring at the cracks that had spread like veins across the surface. They pulsed faintly, as if the mirror itself were breathing.

My reflection stared back — but not quite. His clothes were a shade darker. His skin, slightly paler. And those eyes... lifeless. Familiar, but utterly wrong.

He raised his hand.

I didn’t.

I tightened my grip on the hammer.

“Break it,” I whispered. “End it now.”

But then he spoke — through the glass.

“If you do, you’ll never know.”

His voice didn’t come from the mirror.

It echoed inside my skull.

“Never know what you really are. What I really am.”

I froze.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

He tilted his head, as if amused.

“You think I’m the copy?” he said. “You came from here, Adam.”

I laughed. A nervous, broken laugh.

“That's impossible.”

“Is it?” he said. “You’ve always felt out of place, haven’t you? Like something wasn’t right?”

I stayed silent.

“That's because it isn’t. You’re not from there. You were pulled through as a child. The real Adam stayed. You — you’ve been living a borrowed life.”

My chest tightened.

Was he lying?

Was this a trick?

And yet… deep down, something about it fit.

I’d always had strange gaps in my memory. Dreams that felt too vivid. Déjà vu that lasted for minutes. Even my own parents sometimes looked at me like I wasn’t quite who they remembered.

I lowered the hammer slightly.

“If what you’re saying is true… why now?”

His smile vanished.

“Because the one who switched places with you wants back in. And he’s breaking through.”

Suddenly, the lights in my house flickered.

Every mirror — bathroom, closet door, even my turned-off TV — began to hum. A low, vibrating sound that rattled my bones.

I turned back to the mirror. My reflection was gone.

In its place, a hallway of mirrors. The same one from my dreams.

At the end stood a small boy. Pale. Dirty. Eyes wide.

He looked like… me.

Me at age six.

Flashback.

I remembered it now.

A camping trip. I got lost in the woods. Found a broken shack with an old, dusty mirror. I remember touching it.

Then… nothing.

I woke up in my parents’ arms, crying.

They said they’d found me after hours.

But I remember now — the boy who walked back with them… wasn’t me.

It was him.

The one who’s lived my life ever since.

Back in the present, the mirror shimmered.

The child reached toward the glass.

Behind him, shadows moved — reflections of people that didn’t belong. Crawling, shifting. Watching.

Suddenly, my reflection returned — but now, he was behind me.

I spun around — no one.

But in the mirror, he was standing there.

A knife in his hand.

I panicked. Raised the hammer. Ready to smash the glass.

But he spoke one last time.

“If you destroy this… you destroy yourself. Because you were never real there. You belong here. Choose.”

“What about the boy?” I asked.

He paused.

“He’s already gone. It’s you… or me.”

I looked into the mirror.

My memories — my real ones — were on the other side.

My life had always been a reflection, stolen.

But now I had a choice.

Live a lie.

Or return.

I dropped the hammer.

Reached forward.

And stepped through the glass.

Silence.

Cold air. The smell of dust.

I was in the hallway of mirrors.

No lights. Just my breathing.

I looked back — the mirror I had come through had vanished.

In front of me, dozens of reflections.

Each showing a different path.

And one voice echoed across the glass:

“Welcome home.”

🪞 End of Episode 3.