The TV turned on by itself.
Static filled the room.
Black and white noise crackling.
And then—
My face appeared on the screen.
Not bloody.
Not injured.
Smiling.
Calm.
"You finally understand," TV-Me said.
Behind him was nothing.
Just white emptiness.
"You are not Leonard Vale."
My hands trembled.
Blood dripped onto the floor.
"You are a narrative construct reacting to observation pressure."
He tilted his head.
"When they read, you exist."
The static grew louder.
"When they stop… you collapse."
I felt something tearing inside my chest.
Like pages being ripped.
The house flickered.
Parts of it vanished briefly.
Like rendering errors.
"So what happens if they finish the story?" I whispered.
TV-Me smiled wider.
"That depends on how tragic you make it."
The screen went black.