They always looked at me with those eyes.
Not kind. Not cruel.
Just… pitiful.
As if I were broken glass they were too afraid to touch.
And maybe they were right.
I sat in the back of the class again, the same corner where the lights flicker just enough to remind you that no one cares to fix it. My desk wobbled like it always did. I said nothing. I adjusted nothing. I just… endured.
Some girls whispered. Some boys laughed too loud. I existed like the faint smell of chalk—present, but never noticed.
Until the bell rang, and I walked home alone. Always alone.
That night, I looked into the mirror again.
The girl on the other side tilted her head.
Same soft hair. Same pale skin. Same tired eyes.
But this time, I watched longer. And she blinked slower.
As if she were stalling. Waiting.
Waiting… for me to disappear.
And I did.
At midnight, the air thickened. The walls of my room grew taller, like I was falling into a cathedral of silence.
She stepped forward.
And I—
I stepped back.
The girl in the mirror smiled. But it wasn't mine.
It was hers.
She wore my face, but her eyes… they burned. Not like a flame, but like the embers of a fire long survived. Something ancient. Something patient.
Her hands pulled on black gloves. Smooth. Elegant. Sharp like whispers in the dark.
She moved with a confidence I couldn't fake if I tried.
Click.
Her heels echoed across marble floors I didn't remember ever touching.
Click. Click.
Her voice, though silent, hummed something sweet and unfamiliar. A lullaby for wolves.
She didn't speak to me.
She didn't need to.
I already knew her name.
Noire.
She was me. And yet… more.
More than sadness.
More than survival.
She didn't beg for space.
She took it.
In her world, there were no "sorrys." No careful apologies for breathing too loudly or being too much.
There was only presence. Command.
Power.
And as I watched her fade from the glass, leaving only my hollow reflection behind… I whispered a question I'd never dared ask before.
"What if I let her out?"