Part 3: "Breaking the Mirror Won’t Set You Free"

She Thought She Was Alone – Part 3 (The End)

The darkness swallowed her whole.

Mara felt weightless, like she was floating in an abyss where time didn’t exist. The cold seeped into her bones, deeper than anything she had ever felt. Her body refused to move. Her lungs refused to breathe.

Then, a sound—soft at first, like wind through dead leaves. It grew, morphing into whispers, hundreds of them, all around her, overlapping. Some wept. Some laughed. Some called her name.

“Mara…”

Her chest tightened as her body finally jerked awake. She gasped, hands clawing at the floor beneath her. It was solid—wooden. She blinked, disoriented, the world spinning as she tried to focus.

She was still in the house.

But something was wrong.

Everything was covered in dust, thick as if it had been abandoned for years. The air smelled stale, like rot and old memories. The lights were dim, flickering, but not from an electrical problem. It was as if the house itself was barely holding onto reality.

She stumbled to her feet, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You're already mine."

The whisper still echoed in her head.

No. She wasn’t going to let this thing have her.

She turned, her eyes locking onto the mirror in the hallway. The glass was warped, like water rippling. Her reflection was still missing.

But it was there.

Standing in her place.

Grinning.

Mara’s pulse thundered in her ears as the figure stepped forward—toward her—but only inside the mirror. Its elongated fingers pressed against the glass from the other side, the surface rippling like a thin sheet of water.

And then, its mouth moved.

"Let me out."

Mara stumbled back, shaking her head violently. “No. No, no, no.”

The whispers surged, growing louder, surrounding her, pressing into her skull. The house trembled as if something was waking up inside its walls. The windows rattled. The floorboards groaned beneath her feet.

She had to end this.

But how?

Then she saw it.

A single object in the living room untouched by dust, gleaming under the dim light.

A hammer.

Mara didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward, grabbing it with both hands. The whispers turned into screeches, inhuman and furious. The figure in the mirror thrashed, its grotesque smile stretching unnaturally wide.

"You can't escape."

Mara let out a cry and swung.

The hammer connected with the mirror, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces.

The house screamed.

Not a noise—an actual, physical reaction. The walls cracked, the air thickened, and the darkness poured out from the shattered mirror, spilling onto the floor like ink.

Mara stumbled back as the figure clawed at the air, its form disintegrating, twisting, shrieking as it was sucked into the void.

The shadows swallowed it whole.

And then—silence.

A deafening, hollow silence.

Mara collapsed onto the floor, her chest heaving. The house around her stilled. The flickering lights stabilized. The dust was gone.

It was over.

Shakily, she pushed herself up, her gaze landing on the broken shards of the mirror.

And that’s when she saw it.

Among the shattered glass, her reflection stared back at her.

But it didn’t move.

It wasn’t her.

It was smiling.

Mara barely had time to scream before the world around her went black.

She was never alone.

She never would be again.

She ever would be again.

The house stood in silence, the air thick with an eerie calm. The shattered mirror remained on the floor, the fragments glinting in the dim light. From one shard, Mara’s reflection watched silently—eyes unblinking, lips curled into a knowing smile.

And then, deep in the house, footsteps echoed once again. Slow. Deliberate.

The door to the basement creaked open.

Something else was awake.

Here still of night, shadows creep,
A haunting voice that breaks my sleep.
Walls that breathe, the floorboards moan,
A house that hums when I’m alone.

A fleeting touch, a chilling breeze,
Footsteps echo through the trees.
A mirror cracks, a shadow calls,
A ghostly face within the halls.

The candle flickers, cold and dim,
The air grows thick, the light turns grim.
A whispered name, a phantom’s cry—
In the dark, I close my eyes.

Run or stay, it matters not…
They never leave. You are their plot.


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