I wore the coat.

It was silk.

Black.

It fit me.

Too well.

I dreamed of it.

Always.

A garment of shadow.

Cut from the night.

I touched it.

In the dream.

My fingers slid over the lapel.

Smooth.

Cold.

Like a river stone.

Like a grave.

I woke.

The coat was there.

On the chair.

In my room.

In the house.

In the city.

Which city?

I did not know.

The buildings were grey.

Stone.

Old.

The air tasted of rain.

And iron.

I was here.

I was not.

I remembered my name.

Elara.

I remembered my sister.

Lily.

She was gone.

Or I was.

I put on the coat.

It settled on my shoulders.

Heavy.

Light.

It was mine.

I knew it.

I had never seen it before.

But I knew it.

Like a scar.

Like a memory.

I walked out.

The street was empty.

No cars.

No people.

Just the wet pavement.

Reflecting the sky.

The sky was wrong.

Too dark.

For daytime.

Stars.

Twinkling.

Above the roofs.

I walked.

I did not stop.

I could not.

The coat pulled me.

Gently.

Firmly.

It whispered.

Not words.

Feelings.

Grief.

Anger.

Desire.

I saw a door.

In the wall.

No handle.

No keyhole.

Just wood.

Dark.

I pushed.

It opened.

I stepped in.

It was a room.

Empty.

Except for a mirror.

Tall.

Silver.

I looked.

My face.

Pale.

Eyes wide.

But wrong.

The eyes were Lily’s.

Not mine.

I screamed.

The sound did not come out.

My mouth opened.

No noise.

The mirror rippled.

Like water.

A hand came out.

From the glass.

Pale.

Fingers long.

It grabbed my throat.

I choked.

I fought.

I struck the glass.

It did not break.

It cut my hand.

Blood.

Red.

Dripping on the coat.

The silk drank it.

The hand released me.

I fell.

I gasped.

I looked up.

The woman in the mirror was gone.

In its place.

A door.

The same door.

I had entered.

But now it led to a street.

A different street.

Bright.

Sunny.

Children playing.

Laughter.

I ran.

I ran out.

I was in a square.

Fountain.

Birds.

People.

They looked at me.

They smiled.

They knew me.

"Elara," they said.

"I’m here," I said.

I was here.

But where?

This was not my world.

This was the dream.

I knew it.

I was trapped.

In the coat.

In the mirror.

I saw Lily.

Across the square.

She was young.

Smiling.

She waved.

I waved.

I ran to her.

The ground was soft.

Like moss.

I reached her.

She hugged me.

She smelled of flowers.

And dust.

"You’re late," she said.

"I’m here," I said.

"Are you?" she asked.

Her eyes were kind.

But sad.

"I don’t know," I said.

She pulled back.

She looked at my coat.

Her face changed.

Fear.

Hate.

"You wore it," she said.

"I didn’t know," I said.

"You knew," she said.

"You always know."

She stepped back.

The square changed.

The sun went out.

The birds stopped.

The people vanished.

Only the coat remained.

And me.

And Lily.

She was not Lily.

She was the coat.

She was the mirror.

She was the trap.

"I am you," she said.

"No," I said.

"You are the part I cut off," she said.

"I am the part you denied."

"I don’t deny," I said.

"You deny everything," she said.

"You deny me."

She reached out.

Her hand was the mirror.

Her hand was the coat.

She touched my face.

Cold.

I felt the silk tighten.

It wrapped around my neck.

I gasped.

I tried to pull it off.

It was fused to me.

It was my skin.

It was my soul.

"I will not lose you," I said.

"You are losing yourself," she said.

"I am finding myself," I said.

"You are losing me," she said.

"I am finding you," I said.

She smiled.

It was a cruel smile.

A kind smile.

I struck her.

I struck the coat.

I struck the mirror.

I struck the air.

I fought.

I clawed.

I bit.

I screamed.

The world shook.

The stone cracked.

The sky tore.

I saw the truth.

It was not a trap.

It was a choice.

I had chosen this.

Years ago.

In the other world.

I had chosen to leave.

To be free.

To be alone.

I had cut off the part of me that loved.

That felt.

That hurt.

I had sealed it in the coat.

In the mirror.

In the dream.

And now it was hungry.

It wanted back.

It wanted to be me.

I looked at my hands.

They were made of glass.

Shattering.

I looked at the coat.

It was made of shadow.

Devouring.

I had to choose.

Fight.

Or yield.

Fight.

I would not yield.

I would not let it take me.

I would conquer it.

I would break it.

I raised my hand.

I struck the coat.

I struck it hard.

I struck it again.

And again.

The silk tore.

The shadow bled.

Lily screamed.

It was my scream.

It was her scream.

It was the scream of the world.

The coat burst.

The mirror shattered.

The dream collapsed.

I fell.

I hit the ground.

Hard.

Pain.

Sharp.

Clear.

I opened my eyes.

I was in my room.

The chair was empty.

The coat was gone.

I looked at my hands.

They were flesh.

Blood.

From the cut.

Still bleeding.

I touched my face.

My skin.

Warm.

Real.

I had won.

I had conquered the mirror.

I had broken the coat.

I was free.

I was alone.

I was whole.

I stood up.

I walked to the window.

I looked out.

The city.

The rain.

The grey.

It was real.

I was real.

I was free.

But I was empty.

The coat was gone.

The shadow was gone.

Lily was gone.

I had cut her off.

I had cut myself off.

I had won the war.

I had lost the peace.

I touched my throat.

Where the silk had been.

There was a scar.

Dark.

Thin.

Like a line.

Like a wound.

I would always be here.

In this room.

In this city.

In this life.

I was free.

I was alone.

I was me.

And that was enough.

Or was it?

I looked in the mirror.

My face.

My eyes.

They were mine.

But they were empty.

The glass was clear.

The reflection was still.

I smiled.

It did not reach my eyes.

I turned away.

I left the room.

I went out.

Into the rain.

I walked.

I did not look back.

I could not.

The coat was gone.

But the weight remained.

In my bones.

In my soul.

I walked on.

The city was silent.

The rain was loud.

I was alone.

I was free.

I was lost.

And I did not care.

Because I had chosen.

And that was all I could do.

Choose.

Again.

And again.

And again.