⚡ ACT II — THE RUST

Scene 6 — Body Double

There’s a mirror in the ruins — cracked, but still dreaming.

Riot stares into it and sees not who she was, but who she might have been.

On the other side of the glass stands a girl untouched by ash,

her hands clean, her smile unbroken.

The reflection moves a heartbeat too late.

Two versions of the same flame — one rusted, one unreal.

Maybe the glass remembers what the world forgot.

Maybe the dream is what’s real.

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Statement of Intent – ​​Tribute to Glasshards

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When I started building this arc, I had the world, the chaos, and the fire —

but not the soul.

Riot existed as an idea, a reflection without a pulse.

Then I discovered the sound of Glasshards.

His way of shaping emotion through distortion, of turning silence into something that breathes —

it gave me the missing piece.

Body Double is the moment Riot becomes more than noise.

It’s the moment she sees what she could have been,

and finds her voice through that reflection.

This song is a thank you —

to the artist who helped me find the soul behind the flame.

If you like this song, please visit Glasshards' page (link in the caption). Thank you.🙏

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Lyrics

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There’s a mirror in the ruins.

It’s cracked, but it remembers.

Sometimes, when the light hits right,

I see her —

the version of me that never learned to bleed.

She smiles like the world’s still breathing.

I stare back,

trying to remember what that felt like.

She’s standing in the glass — clean hands, soft eyes.

A ghost of a girl that never had to fight.

No rust in her lungs, no scars to hide,

just the color of warmth on the other side.

Her skin looks like it still knows touch,

mine just hums with static and dust.

I move — she moves.

But not at the same time.

Her mouth shapes words I can’t quite hear.

Maybe she’s praying.

Maybe she’s laughing.

Maybe she’s me.

Body double — standing where I can’t go.

Body double — framed in afterglow.

She’s what I could have been,

if the world had stayed kind.

And I hate her for it,

but I can’t look away.

She moves like memory — gentle, delayed.

Every gesture whispers “it could’ve been okay.”

I reach out, the glass sweats cold,

she reaches too —

but her fingers never mold.

She looks alive,

and I look old.

She looks real,

and I corrode.

Which one of us is dreaming?

I feel her heartbeat through the cracks.

Or maybe it’s mine.

If I break the mirror — do I free her,

or kill her?

There’s a hum beneath my bones —

a pulse that isn’t mine.

She speaks now, lips in sync with the static,

voice soft like mercy,

saying things I’ve never heard before.

“You don’t have to keep burning.”

“You can stop.”

“You can rest.”

But her words taste like rust,

and I spit them out.

I built this world to outlive me.

She’s just the proof I failed.

Body double — I see me bleed.

Body double — she watches me breathe.

She’s what I could have been,

if the sky had stayed blue.

I want to smash her smile,

but it’s mine too.

but it’s mine too.

but it’s mine too.

I see her — she’s me — I’m not — she is —

Don’t look — look — breathe —

The glass remembers.

The glass forgives.

The glass bleeds.

Now the mirror’s gone.

Just dust and light.

But sometimes I still see her

when I close my eyes.

She smiles like the sun never died.

Maybe she’s still there,

somewhere the fire couldn’t find.

If she’s real…

let her live for both of us.

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