stray

Chapter 14: Echoes in the Silence

In the days following my mother's cremation, life moved on around me, but I remained frozen in place. The world outside continued its chaotic rhythm—people rushing to work, neighbors gossiping, children playing in the streets—but inside, I was trapped in a stillness I couldn't escape. The walls of our small home, once a place of warmth and comfort, had become cold and suffocating.

Yet, in that silence, something strange began to happen. At first, it was subtle. A soft whisper that would come and go, so faint I wondered if it was just my imagination. But as the days passed, the voice grew clearer, more persistent. It was my mother's voice. I heard it when I woke up, in the quiet moments of the day, and especially at night, when the darkness pressed in around me.

*"Li Wei, my son, dreams are the light that guides us."* The same words she had spoken so often echoed in my mind, but now, they seemed to linger in the air, as if she were right there beside me, speaking them again.

I tried to ignore it at first, chalking it up to grief or exhaustion. But the voice didn't go away. It followed me, whispering in the quiet, comforting me in moments of despair, and sometimes even urging me to move forward when I felt like I couldn't. It was her, and yet, it wasn't. There was something different about it—an edge, a tone I didn't recognize.

Then, one day, as I stared at myself in the mirror, something even stranger happened. I watched, frozen, as my reflection moved. But it didn't mimic my actions. It moved on its own. My face twisted into an expression of concern, and my lips moved, but I hadn't willed them to. The voice that came out wasn't quite my mother's anymore. It sounded like me, yet it wasn't me.

"Li Wei," the reflection said, "you need to keep going."

I stumbled back, my heart racing, but there was nowhere to run. My reflection stared back at me, calm, as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. And then, after days of living in silence, I did the one thing I hadn't done since my mother passed—I responded.

"What... what do you want?" I asked, my voice trembling.

The reflection's lips curled into a sad smile. "To help you," it said. "You're not alone."

In the emptiness of that room, with nothing but the voice and my own reflection for company, something inside me broke. I should've been terrified, but I wasn't. I was too tired, too lost to care anymore. And so, I began to talk. At first, it was just small things—a few words here and there, asking questions I knew couldn't be answered. But over time, the conversations grew longer. The reflection would talk back, offering comfort when I needed it, pushing me when I hesitated. It became a strange, twisted form of companionship.

Twelve days after my mother's death, the reflection spoke to me for the first time without me initiating the conversation. It caught me off guard, but in my loneliness, I welcomed it.

"You're stronger than you think, Li Wei," it said, the voice blending with my own, no longer just my mother's. "You've survived so much. Don't give up now."

I stared at the mirror, at the face that was mine yet felt foreign. I should've been afraid, should've run far away from whatever this was. But instead, I leaned in closer, searching for something—anything—that made sense in this nightmare.

"I don't know what to do," I whispered. "I'm lost."

The reflection nodded, as if understanding my pain. "Then let me guide you," it said softly. "You don't have to do this alone anymore."

And so, in the suffocating silence of my grief, I found a twisted sense of solace in the voice that now echoed in my mind, and in the reflection that had become my only friend. It wasn't normal, and deep down, I knew something was terribly wrong. But for now, I didn't care. All I wanted was to feel less alone.

Part 2: Shadows of Debt

As the days passed, my world became a blur of pain and confusion. My mother's voice still lingered in my mind, though it had morphed into something that felt closer to me than to her. The reflection in the mirror became a constant presence, speaking to me in moments of loneliness, urging me on when I felt like I couldn't go any further. But outside the walls of our home, reality was closing in.

The neighbors started coming by, more frequently now. Their knocks at the door were insistent, their voices harsh and filled with accusations. They had loaned money to my family, and now they wanted it back. They didn't care that my mother had just died, or that I was barely holding myself together. All they saw was a debt unpaid.

One afternoon, they gathered outside our home, voices raised in anger. I could hear them through the thin walls, their words cutting through the quiet like knives.

"You need to get to work, boy! Pay us back what you owe!"

"We've been patient long enough! Your family has been living off our money, and now we want it back!"

I sat in the corner of the room, knees drawn to my chest, feeling the weight of their words pressing down on me. I wanted to scream at them, to tell them to leave me alone, that I didn't have the strength to deal with this right now. But all I could do was sit there, paralyzed by fear and grief.

And then, the voice came again.

*"Don't worry, Li Wei. I'm with you. Don't be scared. Don't feel alone. We'll deal with this together."*

The voice was calm, soothing, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. It wrapped around me like a protective shield, blocking out the noise and the fear. I closed my eyes, focusing on the words, letting them sink into my mind.

"We'll deal with it," I whispered back, clinging to the voice like a lifeline.

The neighbors kept shouting, their anger growing louder with each passing minute. But the voice in my head grew stronger too, drowning out their words, giving me the strength to stand up, to face the door.

As I approached the door, my heart pounded in my chest, but the voice was there, steady and reassuring.

*"You're not alone, Li Wei. I'm here with you. We'll get through this."*

I opened the door, and the neighbors fell silent, their eyes narrowing as they looked at me. I could feel their judgment, their disdain, but the voice didn't falter.

"Li Wei," one of them snarled, stepping forward. "It's time you started paying your debts. We're not going to wait any longer."

I looked at him, my mind spinning, but the voice whispered in my ear, guiding me.

*"Stay calm. Don't let them scare you. We'll find a way."*

"I'll pay you back," I said, my voice trembling but firm. "Just... give me some time."

They stared at me, skeptical, but for now, it seemed enough. They grumbled and turned away, but I knew they would be back. They always came back.

As I closed the door, I let out a shaky breath, my hands trembling. But the voice was still there, comforting me, telling me I had done the right thing.

*"See? You're stronger than you think. We'll deal with this together."*

I leaned against the door, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over me. The neighbors would come back, and the debts would still hang over my head, but for now, I had the voice. And that was enough to keep going.