The Lost Confession

Chapter 7: The Photograph That Changed Everything

Daniel's fingers tightened around the photograph.

His younger self stared back at him. Colder. Sharper. Different.

Beside him, the dead man.

A man who had recognized him before he died.

A man whose name Daniel should have known.

Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the broken glass scattered across the chapel floor. The storm roared, the wind slamming against the windows, but Daniel barely heard it.

His mind was stuck on the impossible truth.

This photo—this memory—had been erased.

But by whom?

And why was it coming back now?

The Shifting Past

Daniel forced himself to breathe, his grip on the photo so tight that the edges bent. His pulse pounded as fragmented thoughts tumbled through his mind.

The mirror. The note. The dead man.

It was all connected.

But to what?

A sharp ache bloomed behind his eyes. Another memory, hazy and uncertain, threatened to surface.

🔹 A dimly lit room.

🔹 A conversation he couldn't quite hear.

🔹 The feeling of a gun in his hand.

🔹 A voice saying, "This time, you won't remember."

The pain spiked. Daniel sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head.

No. No.

He couldn't chase this now. He needed something solid—something real.

His gaze flicked back to the photo.

There had to be a clue. Something to tell him who this man was.

Then, his heart stopped.

The details in the photo… were different.

The Picture That Changed

Daniel stared, unblinking.

The background. It had shifted.

The edges of the walls behind them were no longer solid—they were blurred, fading, like a half-forgotten dream.

And then—his own face in the picture.

It wasn't the same.

His expression had changed. His younger self had been staring forward before.

But now—

Now he was looking at Daniel.

Daniel's blood ran cold.

This wasn't possible.

He glanced at the broken glass around him, heart hammering. His reflection had moved. The photograph had changed.

Reality itself was starting to shift.

And then—

A sound.

A slow, deliberate knock.

From the chapel door.

The Stranger Who Knows

Daniel's body tensed.

A second knock.

Louder. More forceful.

The storm howled outside, but the sound of knuckles against wood cut through it like a blade.

Then—

A voice.

Low, unfamiliar, yet somehow… recognizable.

"I know you're in there."

Daniel swallowed. His fingers twitched toward his pocket, as if expecting to find something—a weapon?

But there was nothing.

A third knock.

"Open the door, Father."

Daniel hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him not to.

But something in the way the man spoke—the certainty in his voice—made Daniel step forward.

His fingers brushed the handle.

He pulled the door open.

And froze.

The Man Who Should Be Dead

A man stood at the threshold, soaked from the rain.

Tall. Broad shoulders. A dark coat clinging to his frame. His eyes, shadowed beneath the dim glow of the chapel's candles, were locked onto Daniel.

But that wasn't what made Daniel's breath stop.

It was the man's face.

The same face from the photograph.

The same man lying dead behind him.

Daniel's pulse stuttered.

The dead man was standing right in front of him.

And then—

"We need to talk."