Chapter 13 - The Mirror Across the Water
Ethan froze, the flashlight beam trembling in his hand as he stared out the round gable window. The woman in the abandoned house across the water wore a white shirt and a burgundy cardigan—the exact clothes Clara was wearing at that very moment. She wasn't just looking at them; she was moving in perfect synchronization, raising her hands to the glass at the exact same second Clara raised hers.
Clara gasped, dropping her hands away from the window as if she had touched a hot stove. That's... that's us. That’s not a ghost. That’s the other house. The house before this one.
Or the house after, Ethan murmured, his mind reeling as he tried to grasp the geometry of the nightmare. We didn't just repeat the day, Clara. We built our house on top of their ruins. Every time the flood takes us, the ground swallows the house, and a new one rises on the exact same slab. We've been rebuilding our own tomb for twenty years.
The rocking chair behind them stopped moving instantly. The silence in the attic became absolute, heavier than the water pressing against the foundations below.
From the bottom of the ladder, a small voice drifted up into the space, clear and bright. Mommy? Daddy? Can I come up now? It’s cold down here.
Clara spun around, dropping to her knees near the edge of the attic opening. She looked down the ladder. Standing at the base of the stairs was Lily, holding her stuffed white bunny, her long light brown hair falling over her teal knit sweater. But as Clara watched, the little girl’s features flickered, aging into an older face, then fading back into a toddler, repeating the cycle of her short life in a fraction of a second.
Don't come up, Lily, Clara called out, her voice breaking with raw emotion as tears streamed down her cheeks. Stay down there. Keep the bunny safe.
I can't stay down there anymore, Lily replied, her voice echoing strangely, as if it were coming from inside the walls, inside the rafters, inside Clara’s own mind. The water is already at the second floor, Mommy. You forgot to fix the roof.
Ethan stepped forward, grabbing the edge of the attic opening and looking down. The water had indeed risen. It wasn't creeping anymore; it was rushing up the stairwell in a thick, dark wall, churning with debris and carrying the broken pieces of their front door. The lower level of the house was completely submerged, swallowed by the black tide in the span of a single breath.
The water reached the base of the attic ladder, splashing against the lower rungs with a violent hiss.
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Ethan turned back to Clara, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her toward the gable window. There’s no way down, Clara. The only way out is through the glass.
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