I had always thought I was alone. It's incredible the way we go about living, thinking we know ourselves, we know those around us. But it wasn't until one evening, just one evening, that I could see it for what it was.
I've never believed in supernatural flimflam. Ghosts? Ridiculous. Monsters? A part of childhood imagination. But occasionally… occasionally the world will not act out according to whatever rules we fancy we've made. When it does something so strange, something so impossibly out of position, you can't help but question anything you thought you knew.
It all began when I needed to relocate to this new apartment. The apartment was cheap, kinda run down, but that is what you get when you're just starting out. The building itself was old, and the landlord just felt strange—he never once looked me in the eye, would only ever speak to me in short, cryptic little statements. But, oh, rent was cheap so I didn't bother. I only wanted to move into the apartment.
The first night, I did observe something strange. The bathroom mirror was bigger than I expected, going the length of most of the wall. It had a tiny crack on the top right hand corner, but it wasn't noticeable enough to be a problem, so I didn't think twice about it.
That's when I saw it.
I was brushing my teeth, half-closed eyes from exhaustion, when I noticed a flicker in the mirror. A movement. Something passing behind me. I turned around hastily, and there was nothing. Only my empty bathroom lit dimly by the single bulb overhead.
I dismissed it. It must have been the light. Or I must have been seeing things. But it continued throughout the remainder of the following days. I'd glimpse something out of the corner of my eye, a shadow in the mirror altering that didn't really exist. Always lurking around me, always just beyond reaching. As though someone else were in the room with me—invisible but continually observing.
The second I laid eyes on it, I couldn't look away.
I was in front of the mirror, gazing at myself as I was taking off my shirt to take a shower. That's when I noticed something which gave me shivers.
My reflection was not me.
It was warped. The face—my face—was hollow, eyes vacant, lips pulled into a warped grin. The person in the mirror wasn't standing in the same way as I. It was as if they were… mocking me. They floated at their own pace, half a second or so behind, their face a reflection of my own, but… wrong. So wrong. I could feel it watching me, studying me, as if it knew all the secrets of everything about me.
I backed away, pounding heart, and the figure in the mirror moved with me. It no longer merely mimicked my actions. It was imitating me, but goading me. I raised my hand, and it did. I backed away, and so did it—though it stayed just a fraction of a second longer than I did. I watched as the smile grew on the reflection's face.
And then, it winked.
I was rooted where I stood. My skin crawled.
I have no idea how long I stood there, staring at the reflection of. whatever it was, but I finally did turn around and slammed the bathroom door. I barely slept that night. As soon as I closed my eyes, I could see that smile, that warped version of me, waiting for me to turn around in the mirror.
The next day, I simply could not stand to see the bathroom mirror. I evaded it totally, brushing teeth in the kitchen and washing in the sink. But at dusk, I had no choice.
I had crept to the bathroom, slowly opening the door and stepping inside, hoping it would be different. But it wasn't. The reflection was still warped, still there. But this time. this time it was not reflecting only me. It was moving by itself.
It moved out of the mirror.
I stepped back, heart thudding. The creature—no, the monster—took a careful step forward, the grin hugely oversized now. I could notice lines on its face, the sunken-in eyes, the cracks running across its skin, as though it wasn't quite human at all.
And then, it moved its mouth.
"Let me in," it exhaled, voice sounding like scraping steel on blackboard. "I've waited. Waited for you to pay attention."
I turned and ran. I ran from the bathroom, closed the door behind me, and did not slow until I was to the front door. I was unable to catch my breath, unable to think. All that I could hear was that voice, echoing inside my head. Let me in.
I made it out of the apartment. I left all of it behind. I didn't even look back.
But I still see it. In the reflection of department store windows, in puddles when the rain makes the sidewalks sticky, in the small cracks of mirrors. It's always lurking. Watching.
And I know one day, it will catch up to me. And when that happens, I won't be able to run anymore.
Because the reflection is already inside of me.
It's waiting.