Of course she didn’t know where she was going. But, for the first time in her career, only half of her mind was telling her to slow down and pay attention to where she was.

The rest of her—and the much louder part—told her to get as far away from that room as possible. Even the image made her sick if she dwelled on it for too long.

As soon as she got out of here, the first thing she was doing was checking on them. She needed to make sure there truly was nothing real about this place.

Eventually she forced herself to slow down and took a deep breath. She needed to think this through. Neither she nor Nebli were going to get out of here if they couldn’t find each other; it was Mernia’s job to make sure Nebli got out, so she wouldn’t leave without her. Mernia hadn’t abandoned a case so far and she definitely wasn’t interested in starting now.

Assuming that would really be an option—that there really was an exit.

Mernia tried looking up at what was supposed to be the sky, where she’d fallen down from. But there were no hints of the fields that she had been in before. Instead… it was the sky and cityscape she knew to belong to Istrus. She looked around more to realize that it all looked like Istrus, with each building and little detail from her home. The street lights and the various posters hung up on them; the market street where kids would chase each other, or the adults would gather to listen to the news; all the little shops and stalls, promoting their wares through the windows… It would’ve been comforting if it wasn’t completely empty and that not-blood wasn’t covering half the street.

“Look at that, you’re still here! You were so excited, I thought you would’ve run off to go do something more interesting.”

Mernia didn’t say anything, yet still she heard her younger voice remarking, “You say that like you would’ve let me do anything else if I did.”

The oldest officer of the police force laughed as he walked up to her. “Well, I didn’t come without a reward for your waiting—even if it probably wasn’t patience. Here, your dad said you liked these.” According to her memory, it was supposed to be a little pastry. Now, though, it looked like it was made of raw meat—and she wasn’t interested in knowing what kind.

She somehow managed a small smile and broke the script by saying, “Thank you, but I think I’ll pass…”

When he blinked, his eyes disappeared, leaving only black gaps and golden tears. “What? Did I get the wrong one, is that what it is? I couldn’t tell, there were so many there.”

“N-no, it’s just… I’m not hungry.” Actually, she thought she might get sick, but saying that wouldn’t make things better. It seemed like, whoever these messed up versions of the people she knew were, they still shared the same traits.

She looked at the officer’s face and hoped they didn’t share a body, too.

“We’re going to the shooting range, right?” she asked. “To practice? I’ll meet you there in a little while. There’s something else I want to do.”

He frowned. “No, I think I’ll stay with you. Your dad wanted me to keep an eye on you, so that’s what I’ll do.”

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“Then I’m sorry, but I can’t be here right now.”

“Mernia—“

She darted off, though not without a sense of direction this time. Luckily, even the streets were identical to Istrus; she could navigate the entire city with her eyes closed. She was thankful for some little piece of complete familiarity, at least, so that she could lose the old officer.

Her brief moment of relief was soon gone when she ended up on her street. She was just about to pass her townhouse when someone phased through her—a younger version of herself, apparently unaware of a lack of eyes and apathetic to being covered in blood. This younger Mernia bounded up to the door and was soon greeted by her parents… who seemed completely calm, despite the fresh wounds that were responsible for all the blood on them and the barely-hanging limbs.

Mernia blinked to find all four of them now in the kitchen. None of the participants from this tainted memory must’ve realized she was there—or, if they did, they didn’t make any mention to it. The young Mernia climbed onto the chair, placing the dog plush she’d lose two years later beside her on the table. Her father sat down as well, looking over some papers he’d brought back from his office which would later all become solved cases. Her mother started working on dinner, humming along to a song barely distinguishable from the radio static, something state-of-the-art at the time they bought it. What resisted the test of time were the drawings pinned on the wall, both from Mernia and other children who wanted to thank her father over the years.

“Mer, you’re growing up so quickly,” her mother remarked. She went to bring a pitcher of water to the table, but her hand fell off, so it just clattered to the floor. She paid it no mind. “Soon enough you’re going to have to find something to strive for—a way for the world to remember you.”

“She’s got time,” her father mumbled. “No need to pressure her.”

“But I know!” little Mernia insisted. As she enthusiastically waved her hands, she got blood everywhere. “I know what I want to do!”

Her father gave one of those far-too-wide smiles. “Oh really?”

“Yeah!” she said cheerfully, her smile growing far wider. It was, almost literally, ear to ear. “I want to be just like you! I want to do cool things and help people!”

Mernia watched all of this and, slowly, muttered, “Why am I seeing this..? Why these memories?”

Now they all acknowledged her. All three gave deep, deep frowns and glared right at her with their empty eyes. “Well, you must’ve forgotten something,” they said together, “because you keep running away.”

They stepped closer to her, but she stepped back. “I’m not running from anything,” she said. “I’m trying to find Nebli—like I’m supposed to.”

“You’re running away from us, aren’t you?”

“You’re not them! You’re not actually people I know, you—you couldn’t be. You aren’t real.”

“You know something funny about illusions?” The younger Mernia rushed up to her, tried to pull her closer. Where her blood and that not-blood on Mernia’s arm mixed, it felt like it was burning. “Sometimes, they’re just like reality, only just a little… off.”

Mernia pulled her arm back as soon as she could, then kept trying to get as much space between her and the other three. They kept coming closer, quicker, and once the younger Mernia was almost quick enough to touch her again.

Then she must’ve tripped over something, because she fell down, but didn’t stop at the floor. She sank right through and watched them shake their heads sadly before walking away.

Once that little light was gone and she was left to sink into darkness, she heard her father’s laugh. “Maybe when you’re a little older, you can come with me. Some experience beforehand definitely wouldn’t hurt.”

If only all that training and experience had prepared her for this.