Lilith couldn't move.
Her knees threatened to buckle, her breath shallow as she stared at the older version of herself sitting in her childhood room, the red light flickering over their identical faces.
"I don't understand," Lilith said, voice cracking. "What is this? Who are you?"
The older Lilith smiled faintly, sadness hiding in the corners of her lips. "I'm what you become when you let the truth destroy you."
Francisca and Emanuel stepped inside, eyes darting between the two. Emanuel's hand went to Lilith's back as if anchoring her.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
The older Lilith looked at him with knowing eyes. "Because she needs to make a choice. You all do."
"What choice?" Lilith whispered.
"The same one I was forced to make," her older self said. "To remember, or to forget."
She stood, the pages of the book beneath her glowing faintly. Blood-red ink covered the parchment stories written in desperation.
"All of this, Lilith," she continued, walking toward her younger self, "was never just about someone knowing you. It was about you forgetting yourself."
Lilith's heart pounded.
"I… forgot something?"
"You buried it," Older Lilith said, pressing a hand to her chest. "Buried it so deep you created this whole illusion. The stranger, the chase, even the fear it's all echoes of something real."
The house began to tremble. Books fell from the shelves, pages fluttering like wings.
Francisca backed toward the door. "This place is collapsing."
"You have to leave," Older Lilith said, stepping forward, grabbing her younger self by the wrist. "But not before you decide. Do you want the truth back or do you want to keep running?"
A bright red flame burst from the journal.
"Wait!" Lilith cried. "What's the truth? What did I forget?"
The older version reached into her pocket and handed her a single, folded piece of paper.
"Open this when you're ready to remember."
The paper was old, stained, and trembling in Lilith's hands.
"Go," Older Lilith said, stepping back. "Before this place swallows you like it did me."
Francisca pulled Lilith toward the stairs, Emanuel behind them. As they ran, the house crumbled walls folding inward, the light becoming blinding.
They crashed through the front door, falling into darkness
And woke up on the train again.
Same seats. Same eerie calm. Except now, Lilith held the note in her hand.
She opened it slowly.
The words were scrawled in her own handwriting:
"He never died. You just couldn't handle what he became."
Her fingers froze. Her vision blurred.
Emanuel leaned closer. "Lilith? What is it?"
But Lilith was already gone spiraling back through memories, the name she had refused to say returning like a storm:
Nathan.