Chapter 3: Rule 5: The Shard of Truth

Chapter 3: Rule 5: The Shard of Truth

The new journal prompt sat on the page like a judgment. What did you hope to find last night? And what do you fear has found you instead?

Eden hadn't touched it. To answer would be to admit the figure in the shadows was real, to give the building another piece of her fear to feast on. To lie again felt even more dangerous. The memory of the jagged, accusatory script was a raw nerve, a promise of consequences for dishonesty. The journal remained on her desk, a silent, leathery tyrant.

For two days, she existed in a state of suspended terror. She rationed the stale granola bars from her backpack, avoiding the shared kitchen. She only left her room when she was certain the coast was clear, scurrying to the bathroom like a mouse in a house full of cats. The silence of the building was a constant pressure, punctuated only by the phantom memory of something heavy dragging across the floor above. She was trapped, not just within the sterile white walls of apartment 3B, but within her own head.

But the isolation was the worst part. It was the same tactic he had used, cutting her off from friends and family until his voice was the only one she could hear. This place was doing the same, but on an industrial scale. Rule #14, Do not speak to other residents in the hallways, wasn’t about politeness; it was about control. It was designed to make each resident an island of paranoia, ensuring no one could compare notes, no one could confirm that they weren’t the only one going insane.

She couldn’t be the only one. The thought became a desperate mantra. There had to be others receiving the same impossible journals, seeing things in the dark, hearing the whispers from the floor that didn't exist. If she could just make contact, just get one person to look her in the eye and nod, she would know she wasn’t losing her mind. The need for that confirmation grew from a spark of defiance into a raging fire. It was worth the risk.

Her plan was simple and suicidally reckless. She would wait in the hallway.

Positioning herself near the stairwell, she leaned against the wall, feigning a casualness she was nowhere near feeling. The hallway was a long, white, silent throat. The air was cold and still, carrying no scents of cooking or life, only the faint, antiseptic smell of Lilith. Every creak of the old building sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. She felt exposed, a target under the unblinking gaze of some unseen eye.

After twenty minutes that stretched into an eternity, a door down the hall creaked open. 3D.

The man who emerged was a husk. He was tall but stooped, his clothes hanging off a frame that was little more than bone and sinew. His skin had a grey, waxy pallor, and his eyes, wide and sunken in dark hollows, darted nervously from side to side. He clutched a small, grey trash bag in one trembling hand. He was the physical embodiment of every fear Eden had about this place. He was her future.

"Hey," Eden said, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the silence.

The man froze. His head snapped toward her, and his eyes widened in pure, animal terror. It wasn't the reaction of someone startled; it was the reaction of a creature seeing a predator it thought was extinct. He flinched back, pressing himself against the wall as if she had screamed at him. His gaze wasn’t on her face, but flicking wildly towards the ceiling, the corners of the hall, as if expecting Lilith to materialize from the shadows.

"I just—" Eden started, taking a half-step forward.

That was all it took. With a strangled gasp, the man bolted. He scrambled towards the stairs, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. In his frantic haste, his hand brushed against his pocket and a small object, wrapped in a grimy piece of grey cloth, tumbled out and skittered across the polished concrete floor. It came to a stop just a few feet from Eden.

The man didn't stop. He didn't even look back. He clattered down the stairs and was gone, the sound of his panicked footsteps echoing in the void he left behind.

Eden stood, heart pounding, staring at the small, lumpy package on the floor. It was contraband. She knew it with a chilling certainty. It was something he was hiding, something important enough to risk Lilith's wrath. Her eyes darted down the empty hallway. She was alone. For now.

She scooped it up. The cloth was rough and worn, like a piece torn from an old work shirt. Her fingers fumbled with the knot, her curiosity warring with a primal sense of dread. The cloth fell away, revealing what was inside.

It was a shard of a mirror.

About the size of her palm, with one jagged, dangerously sharp edge. It was dirty, but it still held a reflection. She saw a distorted, fragmented image of her own face: a wide, frightened eye, a section of her unkempt hair, the tired, cynical set of her mouth.

Rule #5 slammed into her consciousness with the force of a physical blow. All reflective surfaces, including mirrors, are prohibited within residential units. Polished metals and standing water should be avoided.

Why? What was so terrible about a reflection? She stared at the shard, at the broken piece of herself looking back. In this place that demanded radical honesty in a journal, why was the simple, objective truth of a mirror so forbidden? It didn't make sense. Unless… unless the reflection showed you something you weren't supposed to see.

A faint, almost imperceptible shift in the air behind her made the skin on her neck prickle. The antiseptic scent.

Slowly, she turned.

Lilith stood at the far end of the hallway, by the door to her own apartment. She hadn't been there a second ago. Eden hadn’t heard a door open, hadn't heard a single footstep. She was simply there, a silent, perfectly composed statue in grey and black. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and that faint, unreadable smile was plastered on her face.

But her eyes, her dark, unblinking eyes, weren't looking at Eden’s face. They were fixed on Eden's right hand, the one that was now hastily trying to crush the cloth and the shard within its grip. The smile on Lilith’s lips thinned, becoming something sharper, colder. It was a look of profound disappointment, but also of grim satisfaction. A look that said, I knew you would fail. And now I have you.

She said nothing. She didn't have to. The silence was her accusation, her verdict, her sentence.

A wave of pure terror, colder and more absolute than anything she had felt before, washed over Eden. She had been caught breaking two rules in as many minutes. And she was holding the proof of her transgression in her hand.

Without a thought, Eden spun around and fled into her room, slamming the door shut and ramming the lock home. The click was a hollow, meaningless sound. She pressed her back against the door, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps, as if she could physically hold Lilith out.

Her hand was trembling so violently she could barely open it. She smoothed out the grimy cloth on her desk and placed the mirror shard in the center. It lay there, winking under the dim light of her lamp. It was no longer just a piece of trash dropped by a terrified man. It was a key. A weapon. A shard of forbidden truth in a building built on carefully curated lies. And now, Lilith knew she had it.