Part: 2 The Reflection That Wasn't Hers"

She Thought She Was Alone – Part 2

Mara couldn’t breathe. The whisper echoed in her mind, its icy breath still lingering against her skin.

Don’t turn around.

Her muscles locked, her body refusing to obey the primal urge to run. The silence pressed in on her, suffocating, as if the very air had thickened with unseen terror. Every instinct screamed for her to move, to break free from the unseen force lurking behind her. But she couldn’t.

Then, the whisper came again—so close it felt like something was inside her mind.

Mara… I see you.

That was it. She bolted.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, she lunged forward, flinging the bedroom door open and racing down the hallway. The walls seemed to close in, stretching and warping, the shadows twisting unnaturally. Footsteps—heavy and deliberate—thudded behind her. Not running. Following.

She reached the stairs and took them two at a time, her bare feet barely touching the cold wooden steps. The house groaned, as if alive, as if shifting in response to her panic.

She hit the bottom floor and ran toward the front door. Her fingers fumbled with the lock, twisting and yanking, but it wouldn’t budge. The deadbolt was stuck, as if welded in place.

A deep, guttural creak came from behind her.

Slowly, against every ounce of reason, she turned.

At the top of the staircase, standing in the dim hallway light, was the figure. No, not just a figure.

Its form was unnatural—too tall, its limbs slightly too long, its head tilted at an unnatural angle. The shadows clung to it, swirling like tendrils, as though it was sucking the darkness from the very walls.

Mara’s breath hitched as she noticed something worse.

It was smiling.

A grotesque, jagged grin that seemed to stretch far beyond human limits. The darkness where its eyes should be seemed to pulse, as if something inside was watching her.

And then—it moved.

Not walking. Not running.

It glided.

The floorboards beneath it didn’t creak. It didn’t even touch the ground.

Mara’s scream tore through the house, raw and desperate. She spun back to the door, clawing at the handle, slamming her fists against it.

Behind her, the whisper returned, closer this time.

“You should never have come up here.”

A chill crawled up her spine as she felt the sensation of fingers—cold, skeletal—lightly graze the back of her neck. She whirled around, swinging her arm wildly, but there was nothing there.

The house fell silent again.

She staggered back, pressing against the door, her body trembling. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

Was she losing her mind?

Her phone. She had her phone.

With shaking hands, she pulled it from her pocket, her fingers fumbling over the screen. She pressed the emergency dial—9-1-1.

No service.

Of course.

She sobbed in frustration, gripping the phone like it was her last lifeline. And then—just as she was about to try again—a notification popped up.

One new message.

Her stomach clenched.

The message was from an unknown number.

With trembling fingers, she opened it.

It was a picture.

A picture of her.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs.

The exact position she was in now.

But in the image—behind her—was the figure.

Closer.

Reaching for her.

Mara’s scream barely had time to leave her lips before the lights flickered violently, plunging the house into darkness.

A cold gust of air rushed past her, and she felt it—something moving. Brushing against her. Surrounding her.

Then, the whisper returned, right against her ear.

"You're already mine."

The lights surged back on, and Mara found herself in the middle of the living room, gasping, her body drenched in sweat.

But something was different.

The house wasn’t the same.

The furniture was slightly moved, as if someone had been living here differently for years. Dust covered everything, as though no one had been here for a long time.

She stumbled forward, her heart hammering. The clock on the wall was frozen at 3:13 AM.

A sound behind her made her turn.

The mirror in the hallway reflected the room perfectly. But Mara wasn’t in it.

She wasn’t there at all.

And standing where her reflection should have been—was it.

Grinning.

Watching.

And then, as Mara opened her mouth to scream—the lights flickered again.

And everything went black.