Reflected
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Sanity is a fragile thing. At Briarcliff it is a currency, and Seraphina Whittaker has none left to spend. After the death of her father, Seraphina begins hearing a low hum in the walls, a sound no one else seems to notice. When her increasingly concerned husband decides her grief is a "disorder," she is delivered, bound and silent, into the cold and merciless order of Briarcliff Asylum. Inside its brick walls, routine becomes religion. Obedience becomes survival. Punishment waits quietly for anyone who refuses to fall in line. But Seraphina is not alone. As days blur into rituals of restraint...
Sanity is a fragile thing. At Briarcliff it is a currency, and Seraphina Whittaker has none left to spend. After the death of her father, Seraphina begins hearing a low hum in the walls, a sound no one else seems to notice. When her increasingly concerned husband decides her grief is a "disorder," she is delivered, bound and silent, into the cold and merciless order of Briarcliff Asylum. Inside its brick walls, routine becomes religion. Obedience becomes survival. Punishment waits quietly for anyone who refuses to fall in line. But Seraphina is not alone. As days blur into rituals of restraint, deprivation, and electric "correction," the hum grows louder and begins to answer her. Whispers drift through the pipes. Shadows move in the corners. Faces flicker and vanish in the glass. Something in Briarcliff wants her to listen. As Seraphina sinks deeper into the tightening machinery of the institution, she must decide what is real, what is reflection, and what has come back from the dark to claim her. In Briarcliff the walls have a pulse. And they have already claimed her name.
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