The next morning, Samay wakes up and sees the exact same situation again.
His mother made the exact same food, and his father asked the exact same question. But this time, he notices several cuts across his
parents' bodies.
He asked, "What happened, Dad and Mom? Why are you injured?"
But they didn't answer, as if he wasn't even there. Their faces were blank, smiling stiffly.
Samay noticed the clock on the wall had stopped. His mother, without looking at him, said softly: "Time doesn't matter when you
are with your family."
His sister wasn't at the table. He turned and saw her in the corner, pulling out her nails and yanking clumps of hair, her eyes glazed
over, her lips murmuring something he couldn't hear. His chest tightened. He blinked hard, and suddenly she was back at
the table, calmly eating her breakfast as if nothing had happened.
Samay pushed away from the table, his appetite gone.
At school, when he entered class, everyone turned their heads in perfect unison, staring at him and drooling. A second later, they
began clapping as if they were congratulating him. His teacher stood at the board, grinning too wide. "You finally belonged here," she said.
His best friend leaned toward him, whispering: "You're late… but at the end, you joined us."
Samay's stomach twisted. He sat down, but the desk felt sticky. He glanced at his hands—red marks.
He froze, heart racing, and looked again: it was only chalk dust.
The blackboard shifted in front of his eyes, equations dripping red as though bleeding. He rubbed his eyes, and they turned back to
normal.
He looked at the window beside him and froze.
His reflection wasn't moving. It stared at him, smiling crookedly.
Samay's throat dried. "Maybe I'm losing it," he thought.
In recess.
Behind him, two students whispered. He didn't see their lips move, but their voices crawled into his ears:
"Samay… don't you love your family?"
He spun around, but the kids were just playing, smiling like nothing happened.
Walking down the hallway, he felt the pressure of eyes. Every classroom door opened just slightly, dozens of faces peeking
through, watching him silently.
He blinked, and the hallway was empty again.
Confused and terrified, he went to the doctor again.
"Tell me… have I caught the disease too?" he begged.
The doctor stared at him with a crooked smile.
"You are mentally sick, Samay. It's just you."
Samay's heart sank.
But then the doctor's face began to twist, stretching unnaturally like melting wax, turning into a demon. His eyes went black, his grin splitting wider than a human mouth could.
"No… you are perfectly fine," the doctor said in a low, demonic tone.
"You should always trust your family."
On his way home, near the park gate, he saw the neighbor girl. She looked pale, trembling, her eyes darting around like she was being
hunted.
She stepped close and whispered sharply:
"Your family isn't real. Haven't you noticed? They're wearing your memories like masks. If you stay, you'll become one of them."
Samay staggered back, shaking his head.
"What are you talking about?"
The girl's lips trembled. "Watch carefully. They repeat. Over and over. That's not how real people live."
Before he could say anything, a dog barked. He turned to look—when he turned back, the girl was gone.
That night, at home, his parents greeted him with the same food, the same words, the same smiles. Everything looped.
His sister giggled softly, staring at her plate for too long.
But his sister's arms were drenched in blood.
Samay looked away. He couldn't—he didn't want to believe it.
Samay's chest tightened. "If I was insane, would I even know? Or is this exactly what insanity feels like—believing you're sane?"
Samay heard neighbours saying again "we'll help you, just open the door"
"They're lying," his father said.
"You must never trust them," his mother added.
"We are your family," his sister whispered.
Later that night, he heard laughter echoing through the house.
Loud, unnatural, overlapping.
He goes to the living room.
His parents and sister were sitting motionless, their faces blank.
Their mouths weren't moving, but the laughter still echoed around the room.
Then, slowly, both parents turned their heads toward him.
Their eyes were wide. Their mouths stretched into grotesque smiles.
Drool slid down their chins as they stared at him… and only him.
His sister sat on the floor, drawing. Samay's stomach turned as he looked at the papers:
– In one, his family was eating him at the dinner table.
– In another, they posed for a family portrait. All were smiling
creepily. Even Samay himself, drawn with the same wide, unnatural smile.
That night, the whispers began again.
One voice from each room:
His mother's: "We are your family."
His father's: "Stay with us."
His sister's: "Don't trust anyone else."
The voices overlapped into a horrible chant. Samay buried his head in the pillow, trembling.
"Why is this happening? Is it them… or is it me?"
He looked at the mirror in his room. His face was pale. His lips cracked. His fingers were bleeding from the nails.
Then his reflection smiled back at him.
Samay stumbled backward, gasping.
"No… no… I'm fine. I'm fine…"
The reflection mouthed the words without sound:
"We are your family."
Samay replied with tears:
"you are... my real family" with demonic smile.
THE END