On the other side of the city, under the same blanket of night, a bus hissed to a stop at a quiet, deserted station. Felix stepped off the bus, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a black jacket wrapped tightly around his lanky frame. He glanced up at the flickering streetlight overhead, casting long, jittery shadows across the pavement. The city’s cold, indifferent air welcomed him with a whisper that chilled him to the bone.


    Felix had never been here before, but something about this place felt… off. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the way the streets seemed too empty, or the way the darkness felt heavier here than it did back home. Whatever it was, it made him uneasy. His amber eyes scanned the quiet street, noting the shuttered windows and the distant hum of the city beyond.


    But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He was here for a reason—a new start. He just hoped this small city would be different. He glanced down at the worn address in his hand, and twirled the pen in his other hand.


    The apartment building was as unremarkable as he had expected. It was old, its brick exterior worn and weathered, with peeling paint and a sagging roof. The kind of place no one paid attention to. That was why Felix had chosen it. He wasn’t looking to stand out.


    As he climbed the creaky stairs to the second floor, Felix felt the weight of his duffel bag pulling on his shoulder. It wasn’t heavy with belongings—he didn’t own much. But it carried the weight of the past, the things he was trying to leave behind. He reached his door, the brass number barely hanging on by a single screw, and unlocked it with a quiet click.


    The apartment was small and cluttered, a mess of discarded furniture, old newspapers, and forgotten belongings left by tenants long gone. Dust hung in the air, swirling in the dim light filtering through the grimy window. Felix stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in.


    Home, for now.


    He dropped his bag by the door and stepped inside, the floor creaking under his weight. The walls were yellowed with age, and the faint smell of mildew clung to everything. But Felix didn’t mind. It was perfect. Quiet. Forgotten. Just like him.


    As he moved through the apartment, setting things down and taking stock of his surroundings, there was a knock at the door. Felix stiffened, his heart skipping a beat. He waited for a moment, the tension in his muscles making his movements slow. Then, with a deep breath, he opened the door.


    Standing there was his landlady, Mrs. Harper. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, though it was hard to tell under the layers of makeup she wore with bright red lipstick and thick mascara framing her blue eyes. Her blonde hair was styled in soft curls, and at first glance, she seemed put together—almost beautiful, in a way that hinted at a time when she might have turned heads. But something was off. Felix noticed the way her hands twitched at her sides, and how her eyes darted around nervously, as if she were always looking for something—or someone.


    "Rent’s due first of the month," she said in a slightly hoarse voice. "Don’t be late." She glanced past Felix into the apartment, her eyes narrowing slightly at the mess. "Keep it clean, too. I don’t want any complaints from the neighbors."


    Felix nodded once, his expression neutral. He didn’t say anything. He never did.


    Mrs. Harper smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her hands twitched again, and she rubbed them together absently as she looked him up and down. "Mute, huh? Figures. Just keep outta trouble, got it?"


    Felix pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and scribbled a quick response before holding it up for her to see: Got it.


    Her smile faltered, just for a moment, and she let out a small, nervous laugh. She glanced around again, her eyes flicking to the end of the hallway, and then she nodded at Felix before turning to leave. As she walked away, Felix noticed how her movements seemed a bit too fast, too jittery, as if she was trying to outrun something only she could see.


    He watched her go, his mind already cataloging the details. Mrs. Harper was trying to keep up appearances, but her behavior told a different story. The makeup, the forced smile, the twitching hands… it all pointed to something deeper, something hidden. She was addicted to something—he’d seen it before in other people, though it was none of his business. She didn’t ask questions, that was all Felix needed.


    He closed the door quietly, leaning against it for a moment. His fingers idly brushed against the edge of his notebook, the worn cover familiar beneath his touch. This was his way of communicating now. Words had become dangerous. They had always gotten him into trouble. But silence? Silence kept him safe.


    For the rest of the night, Felix busied himself with unpacking, though there wasn’t much to unpack. His duffel bag contained only a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush, and a worn photograph of a sister he wanted to forget. The scent of mildew seemed to choke him as he worked, and the city outside felt distant, unreachable.


    When the clock struck 2:30 a.m., Felix found himself wide awake, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that had settled deep in his bones. He slipped out of bed, his bare feet padding silently across the cold floor as he made his way to the small laundry room at the end of the hall. It was a cramped, dingy space, with flickering fluorescent lights and the faint hum of old washing machines.


    As he rummaged through the pile of dirty clothes in one of the bins, something caught his eye. A small plastic packet, half-hidden beneath a crumpled shirt. Felix picked it up, his fingers tracing the edges of the packet. It was filled with a powdery substance—illegal drugs, no doubt. He felt a sense of dread settling over him. He knew exactly whose drugs these were.


    Before he could react, he heard the creak of the laundry room door behind him. Felix froze, his heart hammering in his chest as he turned around. Mrs. Harper stood there, her eyes wide and wild, inhaling sharply with labored breaths. She was high, her pupils dilated and her hands trembling even more than usual.


    "What the hell are you doing?" she slurred, stumbling into the room. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the thick silence. She looked at the packet in Felix’s hand and her expression darkened. "You… you weren’t supposed to find that."


    Felix held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, trying to defuse the situation. But Mrs. Harper wasn’t having it. She staggered toward him, her eyes blazing with a manic intensity. "You keep your mouth shut, you hear me? You tell anyone about this, and I’ll kill you. I swear to God, I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to the rats." She grabbed Felix by the collar, yanking him close, her breath hot and foul against his face. "Say it. Say you’ll keep your mouth shut."


    Felix didn’t move. His amber eyes stared into hers, wide and fearful, but he didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His throat tightened as he shook his head weakly.


    Forgetting in her paranoia that Felix was mute, Mrs. Harper’s grip tightened, her nails digging into his skin. "Say it!" she screamed.


    And then, something unexpected happened. Felix opened his mouth, and a weak, barely audible whisper escaped his lips. "Yes… I’ll stay silent."


    Mrs. Harper blinked in surprise, her grip loosening slightly. For a moment, she seemed taken aback, as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. But then, her face twisted into a menacingly smug expression. "That’s right," she cooed, her voice sickly sweet. "You’ll stay silent, or I’ll cut your tongue out and keep it as a souvenir. Understand? You won’t need that mouth of yours for anything."


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Silent," he whispered again while nodding slowly. "My tongue… my mouth… cut off, if I don’t stay silent."


    Mrs. Harper’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a smile. "Damn right."


    Felix took a step back and Mrs. Harper released him, still glaring at him with that wild, dangerous look in her eyes. He didn’t waste any more time. He turned and bolted out of the laundry room, his heart racing as he hurried back to his apartment. Once inside, he locked the door behind him, his hands trembling. The darkness of the room pressed in around him, suffocating, and he felt a familiar sense of fear creeping up his spine. He could still feel her eyes on him, watching, waiting for him to slip up. At least he convinced himself that it was her eyes.


    He stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His face looked pale, drawn—almost as if it wasn’t his own. The amber eyes staring back at him were wide with fear, but there was something else in them, too. Something darker.


    He hated the sight of himself. The sight of this... thing he had become. Silent, controlled, weak. He had spent so long trying to keep it together, trying to maintain some facade of normalcy, but it was all crumbling around him. The shadows, the voices—they were creeping back, slipping through the cracks he had tried so hard to seal.


    The pressure in his chest built to an unbearable point, a storm of emotions that he couldn’t contain any longer. Anger, fear, frustration—it all boiled over, coursing through his veins like fire. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will it away, but it only intensified, clawing at his mind, his body, until he couldn’t take it anymore.


    In a sudden burst of anger that surprised even him, Felix threw his fist into the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces. The broken shards of glass scattered across the sink and floor. A sharp and electric pain shot up in his arms, as his knuckles split open, blood welling from the fresh wounds. He stood there, panting.


    Felix stared down at the shattered glass, gulping for air, each gasp more strained than the last. He flexed his fingers, wincing as the pain grounded him in the moment. Blood dripped from his hand, staining the shards a deep, dark red.


    He could feel something watching him from the other side of the glass—something that had always been there, just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to emerge. It wasn’t just a figment of his imagination—it was a part of him, the part he had buried deep but never truly escaped.


    And for the first time in a long while, Felix wasn’t sure if he could hold it back.


    Meanwhile, Mrs. Harper staggered back to her own apartment, the drugs still coursing through her veins, making her movements unsteady. She mumbled to herself, her lips twitching as she fumbled with her keys, finally managing to unlock the door. The familiar scent of stale air and cheap perfume greeted her as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a loud click.


    She needed another fix. The first one hadn’t been enough to calm the nerves that had been rattled by the mute kid. That damn kid. Why had he spoken? She couldn’t shake the sound of his voice from her mind—it had been so soft, so weak. It unnerved her.


    With shaky hands, she moved to the small vanity in the corner of the room. The mirror was spotless, the surface carefully maintained despite the clutter that surrounded it. Mrs. Harper sat down in front of it, her reflection staring back at her with a practiced smile. Her makeup was still intact, the bright red lipstick framing her lips in a perfect line. She reached for a tube of lipstick, the color worn from use, and began to reapply it with slow, deliberate strokes.


    Her eyes twitched as she leaned in closer, examining herself in the mirror. There was something off about her reflection tonight. Something that made her feel… uneasy. She couldn’t quite place it, but it sent a shiver down her spine.


    She needed to calm down.


    Reaching into the drawer, Mrs. Harper pulled out a small packet of powder, the same one she had used earlier. She emptied the contents onto the glass surface, dividing it into thin lines with the edge of her credit card. She leaned forward, her hands trembling as she snorted the powder in one quick motion. The burn was immediate, familiar. Comforting.


    But it wasn’t enough.


    "You’re falling apart," she muttered to herself. The drugs were numbing the edge, but her body was wearing down faster than she could mask it.


    She reached for another small packet, knocking over a jar of rusty razors in the process. The blades clattered to the ground, one of them bouncing and landing near her bare foot. With an irritated grunt, she bent down to pick it up, her balance unsteady. As she straightened, the room seemed to tilt around her.


    Leaning forward, she tried to steady herself, but the room spun faster, the edges of her vision blurring. Her foot caught on the edge of the bath mat, and for a split second, she teetered on the brink of regaining her balance. Then gravity took hold, and she immediately fell forward, slamming face-first into the porcelain sink. The impact caused her lips to split open, and she felt a sharp, burning pain as blood flowed freely from her mouth.


    Gasping for breath, Mrs. Harper clawed at the sink, her fingers slipping on the smooth surface as she struggled to right herself. Drops of crimson fell from her mouth, staining the yellowed porcelain below.


    She staggered backward, her hands flying to her mouth as she tried to stanch the bleeding. But she forgot she was still holding the razor. In her haste, she pressed the blade against her lips, the metal feeling cold. Immediately, the razor pressed further and cut into her tongue, severing it with a sharp, painful slice. Thick, crimson streams gushed from the wound, filling her mouth and throat. She tried to scream but the sound turned into wet, gurgling sounds as she choked on her own blood.


    She thrashed against the sink, her vision going black as the pain intensified. Her hands flailed, searching for something to grab onto, but there was nothing. Her foot slipped again, and this time, her body twisted violently, sending her head crashing into the hard tile floor with a bone-crunching crack.


    Then, Mrs. Harper’s body twitched once, twice, before finally going limp. Blood pooled around her head, her tongue still partially severed and hanging from her mouth. The room was silent, save for the faint drip of blood dropping onto the cold, cracked tiles.


    Across the hall, Felix sat on the floor of his bathroom, staring at the shattered mirror. His knuckles were raw and bleeding, the result of his earlier outburst. He held his hand in front of him, watching the blood trickle down his fingers, but his mind was elsewhere. The shadows in the corner seemed to be watching him, judging him.


    He knew he shouldn’t have said anything to Mrs. Harper. It had been so long since he had used his voice, and hearing it now—weak and broken—had sent a shiver down his spine. He didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way it made him feel. Vulnerable. Exposed.


    His pacing grew faster, his breathing more erratic. He pulled out his notebook, scribbling frantically as if writing down his thoughts could somehow make sense of the chaos inside his head. But the words on the page didn’t help. They only made things worse.


    Stay quiet. Stay hidden. Don’t let it out. Don’t let it happen again.


    Again.


    The word hung in the air like a ghost, a reminder of something he had tried so hard to forget. His hand trembled as he gripped the pen tighter, the ink smudging on the paper as he wrote the word repetitively.


    Again. Again. Again.


    The broken glass from the mirror reflected shards of his life—fragmented, out of place, impossible to piece together. In one of the larger pieces, he saw something else. Something dark. A shadowy figure standing beside him, tall and menacing, with blood dripping from its hands. Its face was obscured, but its eyes… its eyes were cold and hollow, staring right at him.


    The figure smiled, a twisted grin that sent a wave of terror through Felix’s body. "You can’t hide forever," the figure whispered, its voice like the rumble of an engine churning against a cylinder full of gravel. "Not from me. Not from what you really are."


    Felix’s breath snagged in his chest like a knot. His hand shot out, grabbing a nearby chair, and with a surge of desperate strength, he smashed it against the mirror, shattering it into even smaller pieces. The glass exploded across the floor, and the reflection disappeared, leaving Felix alone in the darkness once more.


    His heartbeat thundered in his ears in as he stared at the mess he had made, his mind filling up with thoughts he couldn’t silence. He had come here for a fresh start, to escape the shadows that followed him. But it had found him anyway.


    A knock on the door jolted Felix out of his thoughts. He froze, his bloodied hand trembling as he stood up. The knock came again, louder this time. Slowly, he made his way to the door, wiping his bloody knuckles on his pants before opening it a crack.


    One of his neighbors, a middle-aged woman with short blonde hair, stood on the other side. She glanced down at his bleeding hand, concern flashing in her eyes.


    "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with worry. "I heard some noise and… well, Mrs. Harper is—"


    Felix cut her off by holding up his notebook. He had already written down what she was going to say: Dead?


    The neighbor blinked in surprise. "How… how did you know?"


    Felix shrugged, offering a small, forced smile. He scribbled a quick explanation: Just a feeling. The building’s been quiet.


    The woman stared at him for a moment, doubt flickering in her eyes, but she seemed to accept the answer. "Well… if you need anything…"


    Felix nodded once, closing the door before she could say anything else. He leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath as he pressed his hand to his forehead. It was happening again.


    He could still feel the darkness around him, just out of sight.