Chapter 115
- Becky -
The warehouse was quite aside from our footsteps, crunching on broken glass, dust motes floating in shafts of pale moonlight that slipped in through the few cracks in the roof—the echoes of the skeleton of the empty building. Rusted beams defiantly clung to the arches overhead like ribs of some forgotten beast, and many shadows in the dark played mischievously.
"This place gives me the creeps," I muttered, brushing my hand across a row of crates. Most were warped and rotted from damp, but a few looked recently disturbed. That set my nerves twitching.
Micah's voice echoed from the front of the group, catching me off guard. "I think to cover ground quickly, we'll split up into pairs. Call out if you find anything or need help."
Please be careful and keep your eyes open for any danger. Baby shouted back. Walking next to Duke.
The air sent a chill crawling across my arms.
Duke gave a steady grunt, reassuring in his silence nonetheless.
Josh just nodded, jaw tight, like he expected that order before it was given.
We split into three groups. Micah and James angled left toward a stretch of shelving that vanished into the gloom. Duke and Baby moved toward the machinery, the faint click of Duke's boots in rhythm like a drum. That left me and Josh trailing into the farthest section of the warehouse—away from the others, deeper into silence, which Josh and I had not faced in a long time.
The air was cooler here. Damp. Like, even time had decided it didn't want to linger too long. I shivered and crossed my arms.
Josh, without looking at me, took off his jacket and placed it on my shoulders, and continued to search the room.
We passed broken pallets, sagging barrels, and more remains of machines whose usefulness had been lost to time, dust, and rust. My boots scuffed a line through the dirt on the floor.
"Think we'll actually find anything?" I whispered, mostly just to break the awkward stillness between us.
Josh ran his hand along a collapsed workbench, his metal fingers clicking faintly against rust. "Maybe. Maybe not, but this place isn't just storage." His eyes flickered up towards the rafters, scanning the shadows. "Someone wanted us to think this place was forgotten."
"Which makes me want to get out of here even faster once we find some answers," I said, though I tried to smile with it.
He let out a small smile. His gaze drifted down to his arm—the one I had made.
There was a slight pause that felt longer than what it probably was as we rummaged through items: me lifting lids off crates, him brushing off dust from items that may or may not have information on them.
Then, softly, like the words might shatter if spoken too loudly, he said, "You know… I never really thanked you."
I looked up, brow furrowed. "For what?"
He lifted the arm slightly, flexing the finger. The metal caught the faint light in a way that made it look incredibly supernatural.
I don't know why my chest tightened. "Josh..."
"I know this may not have been what you expected." He rushed on, voice low, eyes locked on the mechanical hand as if it wasn't his. "I know it's only a replacement for my arm. But when I use it, it feels like...like I've got a part of myself back. Like I'm not really broken all the way."
His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
"And," He added, quieter. "It still feels like I'm carrying a piece of you with me. Everywhere I go...you keep me safe."
Heat bloomed across my cheeks. I nervously laughed, too awkwardly quick, and I stuttered on my words, "T-that's probably the weirdest compliment I've ever been given. But—um, thank you."
"Yeah." His lips twitched into a crooked half smile. "I'm not good at this. But I mean it. You saved me. More than once."
I didn't know what to say to that. My heart stumbled in my chest, much less if I tried to speak words right now. I was torn between pride, embarrassment, and the love I believe I still felt for him.
Josh leaned in closer, trying to read me. He was about to say something else, but all I wanted to do was kiss him and say we would get through this together. I walked away, and now my heart couldn't stand to be away from him any longer. I held back everything for months after I broke up with him.
The silence has me in a chokehold. It was heavy—fragile even. And in a way, it's sweet.
Then—
Josh's boot caught on something, and he almost tripped.
"Dang it. What is this? He muttered, crouching down and tugging at a corner of a heavy sheet half-buried beneath years of dust.
I leaned closer. The cloth was thick, almost velvet, though time had stained it gray. When he pulled, it collapsed into a heap, releasing a cloud of dust that stung my throat.
Beneath it stood a mirror.
Tall, flawless, untouched by time. Its frame gleamed gold, carved with curling vines that seemed to twist under the light. Despite the grime choking the rest of the warehouse, not a speck of dust clung to it.
"Whoa," I breathed. "That… does not belong here."
Josh straightened, his reflection meeting his stare. "No. It does not!"
We stepped closer together, as if pulled by the mirror's gravity and beauty. The glass shimmered faintly—not just reflecting, but almost glowing from within.
For a moment, it was just us. Just two reflections, our movements perfectly matched. Josh's figure loomed a little closer, his eyes shadowed, his jaw tight.
Then the glass rippled.
And the reflection didn't move.
Instead—it changed...