Chapter 1 The Stranger in the Mirror

The first thing she noticed was the silence.

Not peaceful silence-this was the kind that felt unnatural. The kind that settled deep in your bones and made your skin crawl. The kind that whispered that something was wrong, even if you couldn't name what.

She opened her eyes.

Blinding white light poured down from a fluorescent bulb. The ceiling above was smooth and unfamiliar. Her throat was dry, her limbs heavy. When she tried to move her head, a wave of dizziness struck her so hard she had to close her eyes again.

She was lying on a bed. Thin sheets. A beeping sound came from somewhere beside her, steady like a ticking clock.

She blinked up at the ceiling again, trying to slow her breathing. Her body felt like it belonged to someone else. Nothing around her made sense.

"Hey-she's awake!"

A female voice. Soft footsteps. Then a presence at her side.

A nurse appeared beside the bed, her face kind but tense. "Hi there, sweetheart. You're safe. You're in the hospital. Just try to relax, okay?"

The girl stared at her. "Hospital?" she rasped.

The nurse nodded. "You were brought in three days ago. Some hikers found you unconscious near Pine Lake."

Pine Lake?

The name didn't mean anything. It floated in her mind with no anchor, no memory, no sense of place.

The nurse gently touched her wrist, checking her pulse. "You had a head injury and some bruises. Your scans were mostly clear, which is a relief. But... do you know your name?"

She opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Her heart began to race. She pressed her fingers against her temples, willing something-anything-to surface.

"I don't..." Her voice cracked. "I don't remember. I don't know who I am."

The nurse's smile faltered slightly. "That's okay," she said gently. "That can happen with head trauma. It's called retrograde amnesia. You might recover your memory with time."

The girl sat up slowly, her body protesting. She looked down at her arms. Pale. Bruised. Bandaged. Her hands were trembling.

"Was I... alone?" she asked.

"Yes. No ID, no phone. Just this."

The nurse reached into her pocket and placed something small in her palm.

A silver necklace. A star pendant.

It shimmered faintly under the light. The girl held it tightly, searching for any trace of recognition. But again-nothing. It felt familiar, yes. But like something seen in a dream, just out of reach.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know who I am."

They moved her to a quieter room with a window. Outside, the sky was a pale gray, clouds rolling in. She watched the trees sway, people pass below, but none of them looked familiar. None of them slowed to look up, as if searching for her.

She was alone.

The nurse came back with food, soft soup and crackers, but she barely touched it. The doctor came, too-Dr. Meyers. He explained things again, kindly but clinically.

"You've suffered some trauma," he said. "No fractures, but you were dehydrated and bruised. The amnesia might be temporary. You may remember things gradually-smells, sensations, voices. Or it might come back all at once."

"What if it doesn't?" she asked.

He paused. "Then we build from here. We'll help you find a way forward."

She turned her face to the window. Her fingers curled tighter around the necklace.

That night, after the nurses dimmed the lights, she stood in front of the small mirror mounted to the wall above the sink.

A girl looked back at her.

Chestnut-brown hair, tangled and falling around her shoulders. A fading bruise along her left cheekbone. Hollow eyes. She looked seventeen, maybe eighteen. Too young to be alone. Too broken to know who she was.

"Who are you?" she whispered to her reflection.

The girl in the mirror didn't answer.

She touched her face slowly, trying to imagine what she used to look like before the bruises. What her laugh sounded like. What kind of clothes she wore, what music she listened to, if she had friends, a family-someone who missed her.

But her reflection was a stranger.

And strangers don't have answers.

It was sometime after midnight when she heard it.

A faint sound outside her room. Soft footsteps. Then-something slid under her door.

She sat up in bed, heart pounding. The hallway light spilled a thin line across the floor.

She got out of bed slowly and padded to the door. When she opened it, no one was there.

Only a folded piece of paper.

Her fingers shook as she picked it up.

There was just one line, written in sharp, messy handwriting:

"Don't trust them. You weren't supposed to survive."

She stared at it, every nerve in her body going cold.

Her breath caught in her throat.

What did it mean?

Who wasn't she supposed to trust?

And more importantly... who wanted her gone?