Shattered Memories Cheryl -

And she plunged the shard into her own heart. The church shattered. Dahlia screamed. The ash statues crumbled. And Cheryl fell into darkness, warm and quiet, like being held.

Cheryl’s blood ran cold. She followed the sound through a playground she didn’t recognize, past swings that swayed without wind, past a merry-go-round whose painted horses had cracked, weeping faces. The laughter led her to a school. Midwich Elementary. The sign hung crooked, its letters half-eaten by rust. shattered memories cheryl

Her hands moved on their own. The door swung inward onto a hallway that stretched impossibly long, lined with mirrors. Each mirror showed a different Cheryl. A toddler laughing. A teenager screaming. A woman with a knife, standing over a crib. A bride in a bloodstained veil. And at the end of the hall, a final mirror, black as obsidian. And she plunged the shard into her own heart

“No,” Cheryl whispered, clutching her head. “I won’t. I won’t be your god.” The ash statues crumbled