The Woman Who Wore My Face

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Woman Who Wore My Face

The door opened slowly.

I watched the hand gripping its edge, unable to move, unable to understand how something that belonged to me could suddenly feel so foreign. The fingers were slender, the nails painted a faded shade of red, and the silver ring caught the candlelight as the woman stepped into the room.

She had my face.

Not a resemblance. Not the vague similarity of two strangers who happened to share the same eyes. She was me, down to the small scar above my left eyebrow and the faint crease beside my mouth.

Even the way she tilted her head was familiar.

But there was something wrong with her expression. She looked at Adrian with the cold patience of someone who had waited a very long time to settle a debt.

Then her eyes found mine.

“So,” she said softly. “You finally remembered.”

I stumbled backwards.

Adrian moved in front of me, but the woman laughed.

“Still protecting her? After everything she did to you?”

“Leave her alone.”

“You said that last time.”

“I mean it.”

“And you meant it then, too.” She glanced at me. “Do you see what he does, Elena? He makes promises he cannot keep, then spends the rest of his life pretending his intentions matter more than the consequences.”

I looked between them. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled.

“You know who I am.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t. You have made a career out of forgetting.”

Her words struck a nerve I couldn’t explain. I felt a flash of anger, followed by a terrible sense of shame, as though she had accused me of something I had spent years trying to hide.

I stepped around Adrian.

“Tell me your name.”

She studied me for a moment.

“Elena Vale.”

The room fell silent.

My name sounded different coming from her. It was as if she had stolen it and was daring me to take it back.

“That is my name,” I said.

“Is it?”

She lifted her left hand.

I looked down at mine.

The silver ring was still there, its inscription hidden against my skin.

“Take it off,” she instructed.

Adrian immediately turned towards me. “Don’t.”

The woman laughed again. “He really does enjoy deciding what you are allowed to know.”

I twisted the ring around my finger.

“Why should I listen to either of you?”

“Because I am the only one who will tell you the truth.”

“And why should I believe you?”

Her expression softened in a way that frightened me more than her anger.

“Because I know what happened to Lily.”

At the mention of my daughter, something inside me broke open.

I moved towards her before Adrian could stop me.

“Tell me.”

The woman glanced at the little girl standing beside me. Lily had gone unnaturally still, her small fingers wrapped around mine.

“You shouldn’t have brought her here,” the woman said.

“I didn’t bring her anywhere. She was already here.”

“That’s what you told yourself the first time.”

I looked down at Lily. “What does she mean?”

My daughter wouldn’t meet my eyes.

The woman sighed. “You keep thinking this is a house. You think these rooms are real, that you can walk through a door and find the truth waiting on the other side. But none of this was built to help you remember, Elena. It was built to keep you from remembering too much.”

A low rumble travelled through the walls.

The mirrors began to tremble.

I stared at them. In each reflection, the woman stood in a different position. One watched me with a smile. Another covered her face with both hands. A third was crying, blood running down her chin.

But the woman in front of me remained perfectly still.

“What is this place?” I whispered.

“The last place you remember being alive.”

Adrian stepped forward. “That’s enough.”

She turned on him. “You don’t get to decide when this ends.”

“I’m trying to keep her safe.”

“No. You’re trying to keep her yours.”

The words struck him visibly.

I looked at Adrian. “What does she mean?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

The woman moved closer to me.

“Ask him why he married you.”

I felt my stomach tighten.

“I already know why. He loved me.”

For the first time, the woman looked genuinely sad.

“Did he?”

I turned away from her. “I’m not doing this.”

“Then ask him why he never let you leave the house after Lily died. Ask him why every mirror was covered. Ask him why he called you by your name when you woke up screaming, even when you begged him to stop.”

My heart began to pound.

Fragments surfaced in my mind. Heavy curtains. A locked bedroom door. Adrian sitting beside my bed with a glass of water. My own voice pleading with him to take the mirrors away.

And another memory, sharper than the rest.

I was standing in front of a mirror, holding a broken piece of glass. Adrian was behind me, blood running down his neck.

I had looked at him and said, You should have let me die.

I pressed my fingers against my temples.

“Stop.”

The woman stopped speaking.

For a moment, there was only the sound of my breathing.

Then I looked at Adrian.

“Did you lock me in this house?”

He didn’t answer quickly enough.

My chest tightened.

“Adrian.”

“Yes.”

The word was barely audible.

I stared at him.

“You locked me in here?”

“After Lily died, you were not yourself. You were hurting yourself. You were trying to—”

“To what?”

He swallowed.

“To end your life.”

I recoiled as if he had struck me.

“And you thought locking me up was the answer?”

“I thought I could keep you alive until you got better.”

“You had no right.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” My voice broke. “You don’t get to make yourself the hero of a story where you took away my freedom.”

He looked at me with such naked misery that I almost hated him more.

“I never wanted to be your jailer.”

“But you were.”

“Yes.”

For once, he didn’t offer an excuse.

The woman watched us in silence. When she finally spoke, her voice had lost its mocking edge.

“He did try to save you, Elena. That part is true.”

I turned towards her.

“Then why do you hate him?”

She looked at Adrian.

“Because he saved the wrong part.”

Before I could ask what she meant, the mirrors shattered.

The sound was deafening. Glass exploded across the room, but not a single fragment touched us. Instead, every piece froze in the air, suspended like a thousand tiny windows.

Each fragment showed a different scene.

A garden in autumn.

A woman standing beside a hospital bed.

A staircase covered in blood.

A little girl reaching for someone who wasn’t there.

And in one fragment, I saw myself.

I was standing in front of Adrian, holding a knife.

He was on his knees, one hand pressed against his chest. Blood stained his white shirt, spreading between his fingers.

My face was wet with tears, but I was smiling.

I heard my own voice.

“You should have told me what you did.”

Adrian in the memory looked up at me.

“I was trying to protect you.”

“You always say that.”

I raised the knife.

The fragment went dark.

I stumbled backwards.

“No.”

Adrian reached for me. This time, I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. The image had been too clear, too real.

“Did I stab you?” I whispered.

He held my gaze.

“Yes.”

My breath caught.

“Did I try to kill you?”

“Yes.”

I looked down at my hands as though they might still be stained with his blood.

“Why?”

His voice broke. “Because you remembered.”

The woman closed her eyes.

I turned towards her.

“Remembered what?”

She opened her eyes again.

“The truth about Lily.”

The suspended fragments began to move.

One by one, they drifted towards the centre of the room, forming a large, uneven circle. The image of the staircase appeared again, clearer than before.

I saw Lily at the top of the stairs, clutching a small doll.

Adrian stood at the bottom, arguing with someone I couldn’t see.

Then I heard my own voice.

“Give her to me.”

Adrian looked up.

“No, Elena.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“You’re not thinking clearly.”

“Give her to me!”

The scene shifted.

I was holding Lily in my arms. She was crying, her small hands gripping the front of my dress. Adrian stood several feet away, his face pale.

“Please,” he begged. “Put her down.”

I looked at him with a hatred that frightened me.

“You stole her from me.”

“I was trying to save her.”

“You’re lying.”

The memory blurred.

Then came the staircase.

A sudden movement.

A scream.

Lily falling.

I clapped my hands over my ears, but the sound continued inside my head.

When I opened my eyes, the fragments had disappeared.

I was on the floor, sobbing.

Adrian knelt several feet away, his hands raised as though he wanted to comfort me but knew he had no right.

The woman stood over us.

“You need to understand something,” she said. “Lily’s death was not an accident. But it was not as simple as you remember.”

I lifted my head.

“What does that mean?”

“It means someone wanted her dead.”

I stared at her.

“Who?”

The woman looked at Adrian.

He went completely still.

I slowly rose to my feet.

“Who wanted my daughter dead?”

Neither of them answered.

My fear turned into anger.

“I swear to God, if either of you hides one more thing from me—”

“Adrian,” the woman interrupted, “tell her who signed the order.”

He looked at her with an expression of pure hatred.

“Don’t.”

“Tell her.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing.” She stepped closer. “For once in your life, let her decide what she can survive.”

Adrian turned to me.

His face looked older suddenly, worn down by years of carrying something too heavy to put into words.

“There was a doctor,” he said. “A man who worked with you before you lost your memories. He believed you had discovered something you shouldn’t have.”

“What did I discover?”

“He thought you could identify people who were supposed to be dead.”

I frowned. “That makes no sense.”

“It will.”

“Who was he?”

Adrian hesitated.

Then he gave me a name.

“Dr. Samuel Whitmore.”

The moment I heard it, the room changed.

A light flashed behind my eyes, followed by the sharp smell of antiseptic. I saw a man in a white coat standing beside a hospital bed. His face was obscured, but I could hear his voice clearly.

You were never meant to remember, Elena.

I staggered.

Adrian caught my elbow.

“What’s wrong?”

“I know that name.”

His expression tightened.

“What do you remember?”

I looked at him, my heart racing.

“He was there when I woke up.”

“Where?”

“In a hospital.”

The woman in black stared at me.

For the first time, she seemed afraid.

I turned towards her.

“You knew him too.”

She didn’t answer.

“You knew him, didn’t you?”

Her silence was enough.

I stepped closer.

“Who is Samuel Whitmore?”

The woman looked towards the door.

Then she whispered, “The man who brought you back.”

A cold sensation spread through my body.

“Back from where?”

She looked directly into my eyes.

“Death.”

Before I could respond, the clock in the corridor began to strike twelve.

The first chime shook the walls.

The second extinguished half the candles.

By the third, Lily was screaming.

I turned towards her.

Her white dress was changing. Dark stains spread across the fabric, and her face grew pale. She clutched her stomach, crying out as though she were in pain.

“Mummy!”

I ran to her.

“Lily, what’s happening?”

She grabbed my hand so tightly that her fingernails dug into my skin.

“She’s coming!”

“Who?”

The fourth chime rang out.

The woman in black stepped backwards, staring at the bedroom door.

For the first time, she looked as though she wanted to escape.

The fifth chime rang.

Adrian seized my arm.

“We have to leave. Now.”

I pulled away. “I’m not leaving Lily.”

“You can’t help her if you stay here!”

The sixth chime rang.

A shadow appeared beneath the bedroom door.

The seventh.

Then the eighth.

Lily began to disappear.

Her fingers became translucent in mine, and I felt panic rise so violently that I could barely speak.

“No. No, please.”

She looked up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Mummy, don’t let her take me again.”

“I’m not letting anyone take you.”

The ninth chime rang.

The woman in black turned towards me.

“Listen carefully. When the clock strikes twelve, you must choose.”

“Choose what?”

“Which one of us gets to live.”

The tenth chime rang.

I looked from her to Adrian, then down at Lily.

“What are you talking about?”

The woman lifted her hand.

In her palm lay a small silver blade.

I recognised it immediately.

It was the same knife I had seen in the mirror, the one I had used to stab Adrian.

The eleventh chime rang.

She held the blade out to me.

“One of us is real, Elena. The other is the thing that took your place.”

My blood ran cold.

Adrian stepped in front of me.

“Don’t listen to her.”

The woman smiled sadly.

“He still doesn’t want you to know.”

The final chime began.

The room fell into darkness.

And in that darkness, I heard Adrian whisper something I knew I was never supposed to hear.

“I’m sorry, Elena. I should have told you which one of you I married.”

Then the clock struck twelve.

A hand closed around mine.

Not Adrian’s.

Not Lily’s.

The hand was cold, trembling, and unmistakably my own.

A voice whispered against my ear.

“Now, darling, let’s find out which one of us deserves to exist.”

The candles burst into flame.

And standing directly in front of me was another Elena Vale.

She was smiling.

I was not.

Between us, Lily lay motionless on the floor.

And Adrian, the man I had once loved, was holding the knife.