CHAPTER 5: THE MIRROR THAT ATE ME

The days blurred.

Classes.

Laughter from people she couldn’t call friends.

Smiles she couldn’t quite return.

Firenze kept showing up—

like a painting someone forgot to finish.

Unframed. Unseen.

But still hanging on a wall of hope.

Ghost was always there.

In her mirror.

In her dreams.

In the half-light of every memory she tried to rewrite.

> “My muse\,” he called her.

“Your sadness lights constellations across my dead sky.”

She believed him.

Because when no one sees you,

the first one who pretends to—

becomes your god.

And she worshipped him.

Lit candles at the altar of his attention.

Bled quiet prayers into his silence.

But then— he wanted more.

Not love.

Not truth.

Not her laughter.

> He wanted her soul.

He wanted the only thing she had left untouched—

her innocence.

 no she says quick.

And when she refused,

when fear cracked her voice—

he twisted his tongue into thorns.

> “If you won’t\,” he said

“I’ll leave.”

> “I don’t feel anything anymore.”

And Firenze panicked.

Because even shadows feel like sunlight

when you’ve only known cold.

She didn’t want to lose him.

Didn’t want to be alone again—

abandoned in that empty tower

where no one knocks and no one stays.

So she did what her fear whispered.

She agreed.

> Screams.

Tears.

Blood.

Not the beginning of love,

but the beginning of her undoing.

Ghost was overjoyed.

Triumphant.

Firenze told herself—maybe now, everything will be okay.

But she didn’t know

that was the moment she began to vanish.

Bit by bit,

she faded from her reflection.

He changed after that.

Sharper.

Colder.

Crueler.

He called her names—

ones that splintered her self-worth.

And when she shattered,

he apologized.

Only to do it again.

And again.

And again.

He clipped her wings,

isolated her from Shadow and Air—

her only threadbare friendships.

> “You don’t need them\,”

he hissed,

“You have me.”

And Firenze believed him.

Because when someone breaks you enough times,

you begin to think their grip is love.

She walked on glass for him.

Even when her feet bled.

She still said,

> “This must be love.” she said to herself.

But it wasn’t.

It was a cage.

A coffin.

She cried in secret—

pleaded through the cracks.

> “Please stop\,”

“I’m not okay,”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

But Ghost only smirked.

> “Then I’ll leave.”

How could he?

> You took my soul.

You took my identity.

You took my innocence.

My blood is still warm on your hands.

How dare you leave now?

cant you change ??????

she begged

She screamed.

But only the walls heard.

Muffled.

Choked.

Forgotten.

> “You can’t leave me…

please…

I gave you everything.”

> "why is it so hard for you to accept me as iam" ?

> "why cant you be happy for me when i smile ".......

But Ghost already had what he wanted.

And Firenze?

She was nothing more than a cracked mirror

he no longer needed to admire himself in.

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