The mirror had been quiet.
Too quiet.
The girls no longer appeared behind me.
And that terrified me more than when they did.
---
I touched the scar above my collarbone.
Still warm.
Still pulsing.
Still not mine.
---
That morning, I wore white.
Not red. Not black.
White.
He didn't comment.
Just watched.
Tense. Unblinking. Hollow.
> "You're mourning something," he finally said.
> "Yes," I answered.
> "What?"
> "The girl who thought she could be loved here."
---
After breakfast, I sat at the piano.
Not to play. Just to feel the keys.
Then I whispered into the silence:
> "Amelia."
A beat.
> "Claire."
Another.
> "Juliette… Elise… Viola…"
My voice trembled.
But I didn't stop.
> "I carry you. I don't know if you can hear me. But I remember now. You don't need to haunt me anymore. I'm not scared of what you went through."
I looked up at the mirror across the room.
For the first time...
It cracked.
---
That night, I walked into his study.
He looked tired. Older.
Like the truth was aging him faster than time.
> "What's my real name?" I asked.
He blinked.
> "What?"
> "The one you gave me. The one you wrote in the files. The one the lab called me before I was human."
He stayed silent.
So I stepped closer.
> "Tell me, or I'll burn every letter. Every drive. Every record. I'll erase her — and all your dead wives — from memory. Forever."
He looked broken.
> "Echo."
My blood ran cold.
> "That's what we called you. Echo."
---
I laughed.
Sharp. Loud. Wild.
> "Not even a real name. Just a sound bouncing off the walls of your obsession."
I turned to leave.
> "Arianne," he called.
I stopped.
> "You were always more than an echo."
I faced him again.
> "That's why I'll be the last one."
---
I went to bed alone.
Not because he didn't follow.
But because I no longer needed him to.
And for the first time since I woke up in this house…
The heartbeat in my chest wasn't louder than my own.