“Mirrors have always lied to me.”

I don’t mean in the way they stretch light, warp shadows, or flip words backwards. I mean they’ve never shown me the truth.

Do you ever look too long and feel something looking back? Something that isn’t quite you?

I do.

I always have.

When i was little, i thought it was a trick of the light. The way my reflection would linger half a second too long, the way the eyes in the glass seemed brighter, like they knew something I didn’t. My mother told me i had an overactive imagination. My therapist called it dissociation. My friends just laughed it off.

But they don’t see what i see.

Because when i look in the mirror, i see something else entirely.

And lately… its been getting worse.

It started with small things-little inconsistencies that most people would brush off. A blink I didn’t remember making. A tilt of the head that felt unfamiliar. A shadow passing behind me when no one else was home.

Then came the smiling.

I don’t smile much. Not in the way she does. My reflection, i mean.

I’ll be standing in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing my hair or washing my hands, and for a moment , everything s normal. But then ill glance up and there it is. That wide, sharp grin stretching across my face. Except… I didn’t smile.

I never do.

I started covering my mirrors after that. Every single one. Sheets, towels, whatever i could find. It didn’t stop the dreams, though.

Or the voice.

“I know why you’re afraid of me, Evelyn.”

It speaks to me now. Low and sweet, like a song hummed just beneath the surface of my mind. I try to ignore it. I tell myself it’s all in my head.

But deep down, i know the truth.

The thing in the mirror, she isn’t me.

Not yet.

I wake up in the middle of the night heart pounding the air thick with something wrong. The room is dark but i swear i feel eyes on me pressing in like a weight against my chest. My breath is uneven as i reach for my phone, squinting at the time. 3:12 AM.

That’s when I hear it.

A soft creak. A shift in the silence.

I freeze, my fingers tightening around the blanket. The mirrors are covered. I made sure of that before bed. But still… something feels off.

Slowly, i sit up. The darkness is heavy, stretching into the corners of the room, and i scan the space, searching for whatever has me feeling uneasy.

Then I see it.

The vanity mirror by my closet. The one i covered days ago.

The sheet is on the floor.

My throat goes dry. I don’t remember taking it down. I know I didn’t.

But the mirror is bare, gleaming in the dim glow of my phone screen. And my reflection she’s standing there, wide-eyed, lips curling into that too-sharp grin.

Only… I haven’t moved.

I want to run. To look away. To pretend this isn’t happening. But I can’t. I’m rooted in place, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

Then slowly, she tilts her head. Just a fraction to the left.

And so does mine.

I don’t remember doing it. I don’t feel myself doing it. But there it is. A perfect echo. A second too late.

My stomach tightens, nausea twisting in my gut. My fingers twitch aching to reach for my phone to turn on the light to do something. But I don’t move.

I can’t.

Then without warning, my reflection lifts a hand.

And my fingers move with it

But I didn’t tell them to.

A slow, crawling sensation spreads through my limbs, like invisible strings pulling me forward. The glass hums just barley, like a sound beneath sound, pressing into my skull.

My lips part.

I don’t hear the words.

I feel them.

Curling from my throat like they don’t belong to me.

“Let me out.”