Behind The Reflection: Study attempt 1
this is part 5 of 12. More Coming Thursday.
My stomach dropped.
I backed out, heart thudding, and called it in. This was beyond me. I needed one of the detectives here. Now.
Soon after, the rest of the unit arrived. Three detectives came along, gear bags on their shoulders and a familiar grim look in their eyes.
There had been hundreds of missing person reports—each one more baffling than the last. The only common clue?
A shattered mirror is in the center of the crime scene.
Sometimes it was in a bedroom, other times in a bathroom, an office, or prison showers or bathrooms. Someone vanished the children from their cribs, leaving only broken glass behind. Adults vanished from their homes, jobs, and even safe places where they should have been.
There were always signs of a struggle—scratched floors, overturned furniture, fingernail marks dug into the walls and floor—but there were never any witnesses. No sounds, no alarms, no forced entries.
only broken mirrors.
And whatever was doing the taking… never left a trace.
I, Dr. Octavia Norell, stared in disbelief at the man behind the mirror. My colleagues stood frozen beside me, and even the government administrator showed signs of rattling. None of us could comprehend who or what was standing on the other side.
But within seconds, the administrator was already barking orders at security.
I stepped closer to the mirror, ignoring the tension behind me, and rushed to write on a sheet of paper in black marker: “How did you get in there?"
The man locked eyes with me. He didn’t speak; he stared. Then, without a word, he stepped to the side and pulled out a plank of wood, holding it up to the glass. Written in charcoal were the words:
“I was taken. If you just come closer, you can let me out.”
I blinked hard, rereading it over and over again. It seemed too simple. But something about his eyes… it felt true.
More security burst into the lab, guns ready, and the administrator quickly provided an explanation of what was happening. But I didn’t wait. I dashed across the room, grabbed a hammer from the toolbox, and charged toward the mirror.
One of the security officers shouted, assuming I was trying to attack the man or destroy evidence, but I didn’t stop.
I smashed the glass with a single blow.
The man immediately thrust his hands through the fractured surface, grabbed the sides of the broken glass and pulled himself out. and as soon as he crossed over, the mirror sealed itself. No longer a gateway, now just the back of a wooden frame.
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