Part 10 – The Final Confrontation
I watched the video three times.
Every frame. Every word. And every whisper.
By the third playback, I wasn’t even crying anymore — I was numb.
Mercy’s eyes followed me through the screen, sharp and knowing, like she could see me through it.
“If you’re watching this,” Brian had said,
“it means I couldn’t stop her.”
But stop her from what?
That question echoed in my mind as I grabbed my keys, threw on a hoodie, and drove — not to the police, not to a friend — but back to Ridgeview Hotel.
I needed answers. I needed to see her.
The receptionist didn’t even ask questions this time. She just nodded slightly, as if she’d been expecting me.
“Room 214,” she whispered.
The same room.
My stomach tightened as I walked down the hallway, each step heavier than the last.
When I pushed open the door, Mercy was there.
Sitting by the window. Calm. Serene. Wearing my favorite blue dress.
She turned slowly, smiling.
“You came.”
Her voice — soft, familiar. Too familiar.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
She tilted her head. “You already know.”
“No, I don’t!” I shouted. “You’re supposed to be dead!”
She laughed softly — the same way I laugh.
“Dead? No, Cynthia. You just replaced me.”
My throat went dry. “What are you talking about?”
She stood up, walked closer. Same height. Same scent. And same birthmark on her collarbone.
It was like staring into a mirror that had a heartbeat.
“I was the first,” she whispered. “He said he wanted a second chance. A better version of me. And then… there was you.”
I stumbled back, shaking my head. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” She smiled, and her eyes glistened with something between sadness and rage.
“Ask him why your wedding photos are dated one year before you ever met.”
I froze.
She leaned closer, her breath cold against my ear.
“You were never his wife, Cynthia. You were his experiment.”
Before I could react, the lights flickered — and in the reflection of the window, Brian appeared behind us.
His face pale. His voice trembling.
“Mercy… please. Don’t.”
Mercy turned, smiling faintly. “You can’t build the same woman twice, Brian.”
The last thing I heard before everything went dark —
was the sound of glass shattering,
and Brian’s scream echoing down the hallway.
🕯️ Epilogue
They said the fire started in Room 214.
That two people were found inside — one identified as Brian Otieno. The other… unrecognizable.
But sometimes, late at night, my phone still lights up.
A new email. No sender. No subject.
Just one line:
“You still owe me my life.”
Start Part 1 of this series here