Shattered Memories Cheryl ~repack~ Today

“Yes, you do.” The ink rose, forming a door. “Open it.”

“No,” Cheryl whispered, clutching her head. “I won’t. I won’t be your god.” shattered memories cheryl

A sob caught in her throat. “This is a dream. Wake up, Cheryl. Wake up.” “Yes, you do

And then the world fractured. When Cheryl opened her eyes, she was lying on a couch. Not the one from her apartment—this one was worn plaid, smelling of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. A ceiling fan turned slowly overhead. She sat up, dizzy, and found herself in a living room she knew deep in her bones, even though she had never seen it before. I won’t be your god

But Cheryl did. She reached into her pocket—not for the photograph, but for the shard of black mirror she had taken from the school. It cut her palm, and the pain was sharp, real, hers . She held it up, and in its reflection she saw not the god, not the vessel, not the shattered girl.

She saw a woman. Scared. Flawed. But still standing.

Her hands moved on their own. The door swung inward onto a hallway that stretched impossibly long, lined with mirrors. Each mirror showed a different Cheryl. A toddler laughing. A teenager screaming. A woman with a knife, standing over a crib. A bride in a bloodstained veil. And at the end of the hall, a final mirror, black as obsidian.