The rain in Oakhaven didn’t wash things clean. It just made the grime slicker. I drove my truck down the lane, the wipers beating a slow, arrhythmic drum against the glass. The town was a collection of gray stone and damp brick, clinging to the hillside like lichen on a rotting tree. It smelled of wet wool and old coal. I was here to find a man. Or rather, a ghost. Or perhaps just a lie. The file said Arthur Penhaligon had vanished three days prior. His wife, Elspeth, had called the police, but the police had called me. I am a finder. I find things that people have lost, or things they have hidden from themselves.

The house at the top of the hill was a Victorian monstrosity, all turrets and stained glass. It looked less like a home and more like a cage built for a bird that had forgotten how to fly. Elspeth was waiting on the porch. She was a small woman, sharp-featured, with eyes that had seen too much of the dark. She didn’t ask how I was. She didn’t offer tea. She just pointed to the window.

He’s in there, she said.

I frowned. The curtains were drawn tight.

No, I said. He’s gone. That’s why I’m here.

She shook her head. A slow, deliberate motion. He’s inside. He just can’t get out.

I stepped inside. The air was cold, thick with the scent of lavender and decay. The house was silent, save for the ticking of a dozen clocks that all seemed to run at slightly different speeds. I moved through the hallways, my boots echoing on the hardwood. I was looking for signs of struggle. For blood. For clues. But there was nothing. Just dust. And shadows.

I found the study at the end of the east wing. The door was unlocked. I pushed it open. The room was dark, lit only by the gray light filtering through the high windows. In the center of the room stood a chair. And in the chair sat Arthur.

He was alive.

He looked up at me. His eyes were wide, wild, filled with a terror that was almost physical. He didn’t speak. He just stared. I walked closer. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic bird trying to break free. I reached for him, to touch his arm, to check for pulse. But he flinched. He pulled back as if I were a predator.

Arthur? I said. My voice sounded thin in the empty room.

He didn’t answer. He just kept looking at me. At my face. At my hands. And then I saw it.

It was the mirror.

On the wall behind him, a large, ornate mirror, framed in tarnished silver. It was the only piece of furniture in the room. And in the glass, I didn’t see Arthur. I saw myself.

But not me. Not exactly.

The reflection was older. Worn down. It was my face, but stripped of the charm, the wit, the life. It was a face that had been beaten by time and regret. And it was smiling. A cold, empty smile.

Arthur screamed. It wasn’t a sound of pain. It was a sound of recognition.

He knows, I thought. He knows what I am.

I stepped back. The mirror pulsed. A low hum filled the air, vibrating in my teeth. I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. Not from fear. From hunger.

You can’t keep him, I said. My voice was steady now. Cold.

Who? Arthur asked. His voice was a rasp, like dry leaves skittering on pavement.

The truth, I said.

I turned and walked out of the room. I didn’t look back. I knew what was behind me. I knew what I was. I was the thing that fed on the forgotten. The thing that lived in the cracks of the mind. I had come to Oakhaven to find Arthur because I had lost him. Not to the police. To myself.

I had taken him.

Not with my hands. With my will. I had drained him. I had taken his memories, his vitality, his very soul, and I had put them into the mirror. I had made him a shadow of himself, a husk, a vessel for my own discarded past. I had done this because I was lonely. Because I was afraid of growing old. Because I wanted to keep something that was mine, forever.

I walked out to the porch. Elspeth was still there. She watched me with those sharp eyes. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She knew. She had always known. She was the one who had put the file in my hands. She was the one who had set this trap.

My daughter, I thought.

She wasn’t my daughter. Not by blood. But she was my creation. My anchor. The only thing that kept me tethered to the human world. And I had destroyed her. I had turned her into a monster. A feeder. A thing that ate its own kin.

I looked at the house. The rain was falling harder now, turning the road into a river of mud. I could hear the wind howling through the eaves. It sounded like a woman crying.

I got into my truck. I started the engine. It coughed and sputtered, then roared to life. I drove down the hill. The town blurred past the windows. The houses, the shops, the people. They all looked the same. Gray. Damp. Lifeless.

I stopped at the edge of town. At the place where the road met the river. The water was black and churning. I looked in the rearview mirror.

I saw myself.

But this time, the reflection was empty.

Just a hole. A void. A place where a man used to be.

I smiled. It was a small, sad smile. I had lost him. I had lost everything. But I was free.

I threw the keys into the river. They sank without a sound. I walked away from the truck. I walked into the woods. The trees were tall and dark, their branches tangled like fingers. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t need to. I was going nowhere. I was going into the dark.

The rain stopped. The sky cleared. The sun came out, pale and weak. It shone on the trees, on the mud, on my face. I felt the warmth on my skin. It was the last thing I would ever feel.

I closed my eyes.

I let go.

The house on the hill stood empty. The mirror in the study was cracked. A single line ran down the glass, from top to bottom. Like a scar. Like a tear.

Elspeth sat on the porch. She held a bouquet of flowers. White lilies. They were fading, their petals turning brown at the edges. She held them in her lap, her hands trembling.

She looked at the empty house. She looked at the road. She looked at the sky.

She waited.

She would wait forever.

Because some things are never lost. They are just forgotten.

And some people are never gone. They are just turned away.

The wind blew. The flowers drooped. The sun set.

The dark came.

And I was gone.