The hours passed.
Occasionally, someone would come by—the warden, a priest, another guard—but Elias spoke little. His attention remained anchored to the mirror, as though he were searching for something buried deep within his own reflection.
At one point, the priest approached the bars, hands clasped.
“My son,” he began gently, “would you like to confess?”
Elias turned his head, considering him.
“I don’t know what I’d be confessing to,” he said.
The priest frowned. “Your sins.”
Elias looked back at the mirror.
“I know what I did,” he said. “But I don’t know why I did it.”
The priest was silent.
“That’s the part I was hoping to see,” Elias added quietly.
By midday, the light filtering into the corridor shifted, casting long shadows across the floor.
Elias had not moved from his place.
The guard returned, unable to shake his curiosity.
“Find what you’re looking for?” he asked.
Elias did not answer right away.w
Instead, he raised the mirror again and studied his own eyes.
“They’re not empty,” he said finally.
The guard leaned closer. “What?”
“My eyes,” Elias said. “They’re not empty.”
There was something in his voice now—something new. Not quite joy. Not quite sorrow.
Recognition.
Memories began to surface.
Not the ones the newspapers had dissected and replayed endlessly, but older ones.
Quieter ones.
A woman’s laughter. Warm hands brushing his hair when he was a child. The smell of rain on dry earth. The feeling of being seen—not as something broken, but as something whole.
He had buried those memories so deeply that he had forgotten they existed.
But now, looking at his own reflection, they returned.
Not as ghosts.
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“I wasn’t always like this,” Elias said.
The guard nodded slowly. “Most people aren’t.”
Elias gave a faint smile.
“No,” he said. “I suppose not.”
He traced the edge of the mirror with his thumb.
“I think… I stopped looking,” he continued. “Stopped seeing myself. After a while, it’s easier that way.”
“Easier?” the guard asked.
“Yes,” Elias said. “If you don’t see yourself, you don’t have to ask questions.”
The final hour approached.
The prison grew quieter, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
The warden appeared, flanked by two guards.
“It’s time,” he said.
Elias nodded.
He stood, holding the mirror in his hand.
“Can I take this with me?” he asked.
The warden hesitated, then gave a short nod. “Yes.”
The walk to the execution chamber was slow.
