19. Scraps of Fabric

The forest crunches underneath my feet as I limp toward the general direction of the waterfall. The air is heavy with the scent of earth and decay, but there are no shadows around me. There's not even a single sound. Even the trees don't sway high up in the canopies. They stay motionless.

I don't know how much time has passed since Echo left me in the middle of the forest without a word of explanation of where he's going. Not like he owes it to me… But it was so unexpected that I lay on the ground for countless heartbeats before deciding to get up and search for him.

Now, I shuffle through the forest, my body aching with every step. My limbs are heavy, my breath ragged, and my skin is still cut in many places, leaving dried blood caked on my arms and legs.

None of my ailments went away no matter how hard I intended them to.

"I guess you don't have any power here anymore, Claire," I mutter to myself. It's more like silent lip movement because my voice is gone after all that screaming around Echo's cock. Still, it gets the point across. "Intention means shit now, huh?"

The power I once thought I had is meaningless here, in his world, twisted by his whims. I can't predict what will come next, only that it's beyond my control. Where could he have gone? Is this another trick, a ploy to get me scared of my own shadow?

"Whatever," I continue. "It wouldn't be the end of the world if he caught me. We have a deal to make."

The distant roar of the waterfall is ahead of me. It's faint, but enough to guide me forward through the dense thickets and tangled underbrush.

It's the only place I know well here. It's the first place Echo took me. It's also the only one we lingered in for nights before he took me to other places in this dreamscape.

Sure, it might be a wasted effort to look for him there, but what else am I supposed to do? Just lay between the trees somewhere and wait for a miraculous wake-up?

"Waking up won't work," I mutter to myself. "I've tried everything—pinching, scratching, squeezing my eyes shut. Nothing worked. And guess what? Echo did all that to me when he fucked me too. Didn't wake me up then either."

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, the sound echoing off the trees.

Looks like I'm trapped, huh?

The path ahead clears, and I push through the last bit of thickets, coming out into a familiar clearing. There it is, the waterfall, tumbling down the rocky cliff into a misty pool. But it's not quite like I remember. It's darker, gloomier. The water looks deeper and less inviting. The mist covers everything in shades of gray, muting the colors and dulling what used to be vibrant before.

Echo wants me to see it like this.

The thing we have is so sick. Even as I enter the pool beneath the waterfall, still bloodied and hurting, my pussy is swollen, and some dark, messed-up part of me likes it.

Even the darkness, the thing that kept me up at night for the last year, feels different now. It's more inviting in its chilliness. It smiles at me, reaches out its clawed hands, and I step into it.

But Echo's not here.

I strip off my torn dress, piece by piece, wincing as it clings to my wounds and peels off my dried blood. Some cuts reopen; others, thankfully, stay closed. When I submerge myself in the dark, chilly waters of the pool, a maroon hue spreads around me, the blood mingling with the liquid. I watch, mesmerized.

Don't tell me you like the sight of your own blood now, Claire.

But I can't deny that something inside me has changed. The darkness used to be my enemy, a source of pure fear. But now, it's different. Now, I feel like I'm leaving a piece of myself in that darkness, marking it with my presence. It's as if I'm claiming a part of it as my own.

Is this what Echo meant when he said that he, the darkness, is in me? That I chose him?

Well… Over time, his presence became a constant in my life. Maybe I began to appreciate it. Maybe if not for him, I'd feel abandoned and vulnerable. After all, no one likes being truly alone. He spared me that.

Reaching a hand into the mist that hangs over the pond, I feel the cold humidity kissing my fingers. The moon lights up just enough for me to see, but not enough to make the droplets shine on my hand like they did during the warm nights spent here with Echo.

He showed me such beautiful things. He made me feel wanted and beautiful.

Now, he is branded on my flesh, the marks of his bites on my neck and shoulders, and the slashes from his forest, sharp on my skin. I let the water caress each of them, the sting mingling with a strange regret that they're going to heal at some point.

The slashes on my body are a mark, after all. And marks are meant to stay.

Echo doesn't come even after what feels like hours following my bath. Lying on the ground and shivering from the cold, I wrap my arms around myself and watch the sky.

It's unmoving, sitting high above me like a painting rather than something alive and changing. It doesn't matter, though. I never enjoyed cloud-watching anyway. Unlike everyone else, I could never see anything hopeful in them. All I ever saw were monsters, their faces constantly shifting, always menacing.

So without anything better to do, I feel myself drifting away. Slowly, almost sneakily, my eyelids grow heavy and close on their own. My breathing evens out, and the cold wraps around me.

After a while, I don't even feel it. I just stop trembling, and my muscles relax into the ground.

Oh, good… I'll wake up in the real world now…

But I don't. I drift in the darkness. Weightless. Burdenless.

That is, until I open my eyes again.

I sit up, brushing dirt and leaves off my body. The sky, a relentless slate gray, hasn't shifted, but something in the air has changed. It's thicker, charged with a subtle electricity that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.

I look around, expecting to find something—anything—that might explain this shift, but there's nothing. Just the endless expanse of the same dull sky, the cold, hard ground, and the constant hum of the waterfall.

This isn't the real world. I'm still n the dreamscape. How the hell is that even possible?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flicker of movement—a shadow darting between the trees. My heart skips a beat.

"Echo?" I call out, my voice still hoarse. No answer. The forest remains still, my words swallowed by the heavy air. Of course, there's no reply. Echo's signature move is to make me feel powerless, knowing how much I despise it.

I push myself up, wincing as a sharp pain shoots through my body. My skin is a patchwork of red and purple bruises. I trace my fingers over where deep, bloodied slashes had marred my flesh. But the cuts are gone.

Huh?

Frowning, I run my fingers over smooth patches of new skin, rough and unscarred. I press gently, half-expecting the pain to return, but there's nothing. Just the strange texture of fresh healing. Speed healing? That's new.

Weird regret squeezes my chest. I can't explain it. It's against everything I want—being injured—but I feel it anyway. Unable to decipher it, I just ignore it and look around again.

I need to find Echo and discuss our deal. I'm not sure what I want from him yet, but starting the conversation is better than doing nothing.

Taking a deep breath, I decide to explore along the riverbank. Maybe there's a clue about how to leave this place, or at least how to find him. Gritting my teeth, I grab the nearby rocks and start climbing up the waterfall.

The water sprays against my face, making me blink rapidly, but I press forward, determined not to retreat into the forest. The trees rustle above, the bushes whisper behind, and beneath the waterfall's roar, I swear I sense something else stirring. I glance back, a mistake that leaves me dizzy from the towering height, a headache quickly following.

"Alright... If this were real life, falling from here would probably be fatal," I mutter. "But this is a dreamscape. You're not supposed to die here." Yet, my own words don't comfort me. Echo can still consume my soul here. Isn't that basically like dying?

The climb feels endless. Every step sends a tremor through my already sore muscles. At last, I pull myself over the final ledge, gasping for air, my hands raw and my body soaked with sweat and spray. Standing at the summit, I pause to catch my breath, allowing myself a moment to absorb the view.

My jaw drops.

Before me lies a landscape far from what I imagined. It's a patchwork of diverse terrains, stitched together like mismatched scraps of fabric. I see bits that look like cities, oceans, mountain ranges, and deserts—every kind of scene rolled into one vibrant collage.

The place that draws me in is right next to the bustling urban sprawl. It's darker than anywhere else, cloaked in a thick, smoky shadow that hovers over its jagged, pencil-like rooftops. The only hint of color is the faint blue light flickering from the windows.

That's where I need to be. I can feel it.

I quickly map out a route in my mind, then bend down to scoop up some river water in my hands. I take a deep gulp, shake off my hands, and inhale deeply.

"Fuck, I'm really going to wander through this place, huh?" I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. I have no idea what's waiting for me in there. It could be anything, literally anything. But, at least, I've got a bit of luck on my side. To get to the shadowy spot, all I have to do is cross the city and a small stretch of forest. And the best part? It's all downhill from here. So, it shouldn't be as hard as it could be.

After a bit, I find myself coming out of the forest, the trees gradually giving way to the edges of the city. The change is sudden—one moment I'm on dirt, the next I'm on pavement, like I've crossed an invisible line. The air gets warmer, and street lamps cast a soft glow everywhere. The fresh, earthy smell of the forest is instantly swapped for a mix of bakery aromas, coffee, pollution, and cigarette smoke.

The city is completely quiet—no signs of life, no movement or sounds except for my footsteps echoing off the empty buildings. I hug myself against the chill that seems to seep into my bones. The buildings tower overhead, their heights and sharp angles making me feel tiny in comparison.

Yet, as unsettling as this place is, it's nothing compared to how I felt when that presence overshadowed my everyday life.

I keep walking until I reach a small park, its two swings surrounded by overgrown grass. The sweet scent of cotton candy drifts through the air, and I realize where I am—my childhood memory. The scene is here.

"Oh, you bastard," I mutter, cursing Echo under my breath. That whole bit about being in my head and reliving my memories? A complete lie. He just twisted the scene enough to fool me into thinking it was all in my mind, but we were in his dreamscape the entire time. I thought I was in control, but it was all a mirage. He tricked me into dropping my guard, and I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

The swings creak softly in a breeze from nowhere, and the cotton candy scent grows stronger.

Well… at least I got to remember this place.

One last look and I turn away, heading towards the city center.

I find the longest, widest road to walk along, making my way to the shadowy place that's pulling me like a magnet. Its blue light grows steadily brighter, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the walls and street.

My heart beats wildly in my chest as I approach the border. The street ends abruptly, giving way to an abyss woven from shadows. I realize that whatever lies beyond the misty veil is probably very different from everything else.

It feels too much like Echo. Not the good Echo, but the bad one.

My eyes narrow as I take a cautious step forward. To my surprise, the ground holds. No gaping hole swallows me.

Taking a deep breath, I step in fully.

The air is thick with the scent of metal and earth, with a faint hint of rose. My stomach tightens as I detect it, a shiver running down my spine. But that's not the most striking sensation.

The chill in the air… Damn, it's freezing. It feels like pure ice seeping into my bones.

The change is as sudden and drastic as when I left the forest. My breath forms visible clouds, each exhale echoing against the darkness.

And boy, isn't it dark… The ground is covered in a thin layer of tar-like substance that slicks to my feet. The horizon is obscured by dense, swirling fog that seems alive, shifting and moving with a mind of its own. Darkness permeates every building, every brick, every tile. It's ever-present.

Slowly, I move forward, scanning my surroundings. The buildings are gothic, with thin, spiky roofs and tall, narrow windows. Black metal gargoyles perch on their crowns, watching as I pass beneath. Bluish streaks pierce the sky intermittently, providing just enough light to make out bits and pieces of the area, but not enough to feel safe. There was more light outside this zone than inside it.

Up ahead, the path opens into a wide plaza surrounded by high towers that stretch toward the obscured sky, their tops lost in the thick swirls of mist. In the center, one building stands out. Smaller, squat, almost humble, with a roof sloping gently downward and walls made of rough, dark stone that absorbs the weak blue light rather than reflecting it. The door is heavy, wooden, and rough, unlike the others, which are shiny and smooth by comparison.

This... this looks old, weathered, and on the verge of ruin.

"Whatever you are," I mutter, rubbing my arms for warmth, "you stand out."

I approach, my steps slowed by the tar-like substance. Each footfall smacks against the slimy cobblestone. The heavy door looms before me, its old wood groaning as the wind whispers through the plaza. My hand hesitates at the handle—a solid, cold piece of metal that feels untouched for centuries. The faint scent of roses intensifies, mingling with the smell of old wood, dust, and a sharp bite in the air.

The door creaks open with a low, mournful sound before I can even pull on the handle. It just… creaks and slides open. On its own.

I step inside hesitantly, the door closing behind me with a hollow thud that echoes through the room. The dim interior is lit by a single flickering candle. The air is thick with decay, mingling with the floral scent of roses that clings to everything.

My breath catches in my throat. The room is small, cluttered with old, rotting furniture and stacks of dusty books. A large, ornate mirror stands in the corner, its glass tarnished and cracked, reflecting the dim light in fractured patterns. The temperature drops further, a chilling wind whispering through unseen cracks.

"Hello?" I call out, my voice echoing unnaturally in the confined space. There's no response, just more silence broken by the faint rustling of paper as the wind shifts.

I take a few cautious steps forward, each one echoing hollowly. The floorboards creak under my weight as I move deeper into the room. Then, I spot it—a doorway, half-concealed by a tattered curtain that… flutters.

Something just moved it.

A sudden, faint sound makes me freeze in place. It's barely audible, like a distant whisper or a soft scrape against wood. My heart pounds in my chest as I strain to hear it again. But I don't catch anything other than the hum of my own bloodstream.

I inch towards the doorway, my hand trembling as I push the curtain aside. The room beyond is even darker, the shadows thicker and more foreboding. Another flickering candle sits on a small table, casting just enough light to reveal more old furniture, covered in dust and cobwebs, and another large mirror on the far wall.

Something moves in the periphery of my vision, a quick, darting shadow that disappears as soon as I turn to look. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead. There's something here with me. I'm sure of it.

It's watching.

"Who's there?" I whisper, my voice barely audible.

The sound comes again, closer this time—a soft, scraping noise, like nails on wood. My pulse races as I scan the room.

Something's here. Something's playing with me. Wants me scared.

Fuck, it works. My eyes dart around, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever is stalking me. It's not Echo. I feel it in my bones that it's not him. So what the fuck can it be?

I look at where I came from. I look over the shelves, the table, and an ajar door. I scan every corner. Then, my eyes fall on the mirror.

My reflection stares back, but it's distorted, features twisted and blurred. But… A chill runs down my spine as I realize there's something else reflected behind me—a dark, shadowy figure standing just out of reach of the candle's light.

Oh my god…

I spin around, heart pounding in my throat. I swear I saw something right behind me! But there's nothing. The room is empty, shadows still and silent. Slowly, I turn back to the mirror. The figure is gone, leaving only my own terrified reflection staring back at me.

Fuck! I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have fucking come here…

The scraping sound resumes, louder and more insistent, coming from somewhere behind the mirror. I step back.

"Whatever you want from me, I…" What the hell do I say? "I'm not an enemy."

Sure, you're not.

Panic surges through me, and I turn to flee. I don't even take two steps before something appears in front of me, blocking the door. Its eyes are black voids, devoid of any humanity, and its skin is pale, almost translucent, with dark blue veins visible underneath. Its mouth stretches into a wide, unnatural grin, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth.

I freeze, my breath caught in my throat, as I realize who—or rather, what—is blocking my path. It's me. Or at least, a twisted, demonic version of myself. It has the same features but they're distorted and horrifying.

"Sure, you're not," it says in an overwhelmingly sweet voice. It's like it heard my thoughts. "You're too weak to be an enemy."

It steps closer, its movements fluid and almost predatory.

Oh shit, shit, shit.

"Who are you?" I manage to choke out, my voice trembling.

"Weak and stupid," it says without answering my question.

I take a step back, my mind racing. Then, I try to take another but the tar-like substance on the floor holds me back, making it a struggle. The creature mirrors my movements, its smile widening.

"Stay back," I warn, my voice faltering. "I don't know what you are, but you need to stay away from me."

It tilts its head, mocking my fear. "You don't know what I am? I am you, the better you. The you that could have been but never was."

The way it speaks… It hisses instead of letting the vowels flow. It squints its black eyes, body moving more like a snake than a human. Its hands are black like Echo's, but its feet are human. They're dirty, smeared in tar, but they're human.

Still, there's something else that terrifies me: the pure malice I feel from it.

"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "You're not me. You're a monster."

It laughs, a chilling, guttural sound that echoes through the room. "Monster? Perhaps. But you're not that saint either, are you, Clarity?"

The sound of my nickname, twisted and spat out by this demonic version of myself, sends a shiver down my spine. How does it know my name? The room seems to close in, the air growing thicker and colder.

"Yes, Clarity," it continues, its grin widening. "I know everything about you. Every fear, every doubt, every dark thought you've ever had. I am those things."

I try to back away, but the tar-like substance clings to my feet, holding me in place. It seems to pool at my legs and grow in quantity. Like the whole house is working against me.

"You can't run from me," it whispers. "You can't hide from yourself."

"There's nothing to hide from," I choke out. Of course, there is. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "If you're me, you wouldn't want to hurt me."

The thing licks its lips, an unnatural grin widening its face as its eyes get bigger like it's… excited.

"Are you sure about that?" it asks, its voice dripping with that same sickly sweetness. "You didn't want to kill yourself? Didn't crave an escape?"

Damn. I open my mouth, ready to retort, but nothing comes out. The truth gnaws at me. I did want an escape. I did want death. But there's no way I'm confessing that to this thing. I just can't.

The creature's grin only widens, revealing more of its sharp, jagged teeth.

"Don't even try to lie," it hisses. "You've wished for an end, a release from your suffering. I'm here to grant that wish."

My heart pounds in my chest as it steps closer, its words slicing through me like a knife. I force myself to stay calm, my mind racing for a way out. It doesn't work, not really.

"Stay back," I warn, my voice trembling.

It doesn't stop. Instead, it moves faster, closing the gap between us in an instant. I barely have time to react before it's lunging at me, its cold, clawed hands reaching for my throat.

With a surge of adrenaline, I twist my body and break free from the tar-like substance around my feet. I stumble backward, barely keeping my balance, and sprint towards the door. My hands fumble with the handle, but it won't budge. Panic surges through me as I hear the creature's laughter, closer now, almost at my back.

"Running won't save you," it taunts, its voice echoing in my ears. "It never did!"

I glance over my shoulder and see it creeping towards me, moving with an unnatural fluidity. Desperation fuels my movements, and I slam my shoulder against the door, forcing it open. I burst into the hallway, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

The corridor stretches out before me, dimly lit and seemingly endless. I can hear footsteps behind me, growing louder, more insistent. I push myself to run faster, my legs burning with the effort.

Doors line the hallway, each one a potential escape, but I know better than to waste time trying them. I need to find a way out, a way to lose this thing chasing me. I take a sharp turn at the end of the corridor, nearly slipping on the polished floor, and bolt down a staircase. It leads to some kind of basement.

"So weak! How could a whiny bitch like you ever deserve someone like Echo?"

The creature's laughter follows me, a haunting sound that makes my skin crawl. I leap down the stairs two at a time, my heart hammering in my chest. As I reach the bottom, I crash into a table, sending some old vase shattering to the ground. I don't stop to look back; I keep running, the sound of broken glass crunching underfoot.

I burst into another room, my eyes darting around for anything I can use to defend myself. The room is filled with shadows, the only light coming from the flickering candles, but there's an unlit fireplace standing to my right. Quickly, I grab a fireplace poker.

A breath later, the creature appears in the doorway, its eyes fixed on me. "You can't fight me," it says. "I'm better than you."

"Watch me," I growl, raising the poker defensively.

It moves towards me, its body undulating like a snake. I swing the poker with all my strength, but it slips through its form as if it were made of smoke. Panic rises in my chest as I realize the weapon is useless.

"You're weak," it hisses, closing the distance between us. "Always have been, always will be."

"If I'm weak, then you're weak, too," I say. But even though the words come from me, I don't believe them.

I back away, my mind racing for another plan. The creature lunges again, and I dodge to the side, narrowly avoiding its grasp.

"I'm not the "I'm not the fake friend. Not the fake daughter. Not a fraud," it whispers, voice dripping with venom. "I'm real. I know who I am and I embrace it. I never doubt myself."

The words sting, sharp and unforgiving, like a slap to the face.

"No," I whisper, trying to push the thoughts away. "You're lying."

Its grin widens, sensing my desperation. "Lying? You know it's the truth, Clarity. You've always known. A bad daughter, abandoning her sick mother. Playing the victim. Jealous of Camilla and her perfect family. Brothers who care, loving parents, boys who pine for her—you want all of that. But poor little Claire is too unlucky to have any of it." It steps closer, eyes boring into mine. "You pretend to be strong, the one dealt a bad hand who had to cope. You make it your strong suit, telling yourself you're a survivor. But inside, you're terrified. Just a scared little girl, afraid of the dark."

I shake my head, backing away. "I'm not afraid," I insist, but my voice trembles, betraying me.

The creature laughs, a chilling sound that echoes through the room. "Oh, but you are. The darkness consumes you. Every night, you lie awake, afraid of what might be lurking in the shadows. You can't even sleep without a light on, can you? You leapt so hard at the idea of a perfect shiny prince coming to save you it was desperate. You thought you finally lucked out."

My heart pounds in my chest, the truth of its words cutting deep. I can't deny it. The fear that has plagued me for years, the nights spent staring into the darkness, unable to close my eyes.

So what if I thought something good might finally happen to me? Anyone would if they were me.

"Stop it," I plead, tears welling up. "Just stop."

"It is true, and you know it," the creature says, its form looming over me. "You're afraid of everything—of failure, of rejection, of the darkness within you. You're so weak, Clarity, so pathetically weak."

I can't breathe, the room spinning around me. Every word it says feels like a knife, cutting deeper and deeper into my soul. "I'm not weak," I choke out, but the words are hollow.

"Yes, you are," it sneers. "And that's why Echo will never truly want you. He just pretended all this time just to feed on your withering soul. You're a fraud, a pathetic excuse for a person. You're not like me. I'm pure. I could offer him more than just a cunt."

Tears stream down my face, the despair threatening to overwhelm me. The darkness in the room seems to grow, the shadows closing in around me. I can feel the fear clawing at my mind, threatening to pull me under.

That's when something in it makes me gasp in relief. The presence—it's back.

"Echo," I manage to say over my clenched throat. I never thought I'd still think of him as my savior, but there's no denying that he's better than this monstrosity in front of me. Whatever he does to me will be better than spending another moment with this… this version of me.

The creature's eyes flicker with amusement as it catches my desperate whisper. "Echo? You think he'll save you?" it sneers, inching closer, the room's darkness deepening with every step. "He's the one who brought you here, Clarity. He wants you to suffer. You're nothing but a bag of energy for him. Why do you think he chose you?" It continues, circling me like a predator. "Why do you think he keeps you close? He sees the misery in you, the potential for torture. But you'll never be more than that. You'll remain a little, powerless prey until he decides to consume you fully."

"No," I whisper, the word sounding weak even to my own ears. But doubt gnaws at me, a relentless force.

Fuck!

A sudden, oppressive force presses down on me, and I feel the darkness closing in, suffocating. The creature's form looms larger, its presence overwhelming. I can feel its malice, its hunger.

"What do we have here?" a cold, familiar voice cuts through the darkness. Echo.

The worst part? That spirit guardian part of him is gone.

My heart squeezes.

He won't save me.