The morning light spilled weakly into Aarav's room, but it didn't chase away the shadows clinging to the corners. He sat on the edge of his bed, unmoving, his hands resting loosely on his knees. For a moment, he looked almost peaceful. Almost normal.
But inside, the silence wasn't silence at all. It was whispering. Constant. A hundred voices that all sounded like his own. Some laughed. Some screamed. One kept repeating the same word, over and over.
"Vessel… vessel… vessel…"
He pressed his palms hard against his ears, but the voices bled through. His head ached, his throat dry, and his reflection in the wardrobe mirror smirked even though his lips were perfectly still.
A knock at the door jolted him.
"Aarav? You awake?"
It was his childhood friend, Riya. She sounded casual, almost cheerful—completely unaware of the abyss waiting behind the door. Aarav's stomach tightened. A sudden fear surged through him—not for himself, but for her.
The voices hissed in unison:
"Let her in."
His hand moved before he could think, fingers curling around the doorknob. His skin felt ice-cold against the metal. Slowly, he opened the door.
Riya stepped in, smiling faintly. "You look like hell. Didn't sleep?"
Aarav tried to answer, but his mouth wouldn't obey. His lips curved into a smile that felt foreign, wrong. Inside, he was screaming to stop, but the smile stretched wider on its own.
Riya frowned, stepping closer. "Aarav…? You okay?"
Her hand reached toward his arm.
And that's when it happened.
The shadows in the corners stretched, slithering along the floor, coiling toward her feet. Aarav saw it—he knew she didn't. Panic seized him. He tried to warn her, to shout, but the only sound that came out of his mouth wasn't his voice.
It was the whisper. Low. Cold.
"Run."
Riya froze. She pulled her hand back slowly, unease flickering in her eyes. "What… what was that?" she whispered.
Aarav's head pounded. His body convulsed as if fighting something inside. His hands clawed at the wall, leaving streaks as nails dragged across the paint.
The voices roared in his skull:
"She sees too much. Silence her."
Aarav's vision blurred. For a heartbeat, he saw himself lunging at Riya, shadows wrapping around her throat. He gasped—snapping back into control just enough to slam the door shut between them.
Her muffled voice cried from outside, panicked now. "Aarav! What's happening?!"
He collapsed to the floor, shaking violently, his forehead pressed to the cold wood.
Inside his head, the other Aarav laughed.
And in the silence that followed, the diary on his desk opened on its own, a single phrase burned onto the page:
"The mask is cracking".