What was even weirder than seeing his own dead corpse in front of him, was the voice that answered the line as he placed the phone to his right ear.

Well, if you could call a screeching static wrecking havoc on his ear a voice. Immediately, he dropped the phone, seething in pain through his teeth, clasping his hand over his ear, glaring at the offending phone.

The ringing in his ear subsided after what felt like an eternity, and he huffed, looking back into the mirror, to see that his killer was standing.

Their balance was perfect, their posture was also perfect, which, normally wouldn’t be anything of note, if it hadn’t have been for their face.

Or, rather, lack-thereof.

The glinting brown eyes that had stared at him with pure glee, the tanned tones of the hands that had strangled the life out of him, even the distinctive army camo jacket they’d worn were all gone. All these were replaced by a blank slate. No colour, not black, not white, simply as if the light itself wouldn’t even shine on it, avoiding it at all costs.

It didn’t stay like that for long, however. Soon, a familiar mould appeared.

Flushed cheeks.

Shining brown eyes.

A small scar going through their thin li-no.

No. No. Tha-no, it’s not possible.

And yet here he was, watching them-no, it, it doesn’t deserve a proper human label-it take his form. It was an exact copy.

All except for the emotionless look it’s smiling face held. It was horrific how human it looked. Yet it was so...

wrong.