The Reflection's grin 2

Claire felt the chill seep through her skin as the cracks spread across the mirror. She could hear her own voice in the echoing sound of the tapping. Desperation clawed at her chest. She pulled on the door again, but it didn’t budge.

The reflection’s smile grew wider, impossibly wide, and Claire’s own lips began to curl into that same grin. Her body stiffened, as though she was no longer in control.

"Thank you," the reflection whispered, its voice now unmistakably hers.

The mirror shattered, splintering into pieces that scattered across the floor, and Claire was engulfed by a darkness so deep, so suffocating, she couldn’t even scream.

When the landlord unlocked the door the next morning, there was no trace of Claire. Her room was empty, the door at the end of the hall was locked again, and the only thing left was a single shard of mirror on the floor.

But in the reflection... it was her face. Grinning.

Days passed, and the building seemed to breathe with an unsettling quiet. The landlord, still puzzled by Claire’s disappearance, began cleaning the hall. As he wiped the dust off the old mirror shard that had remained on the floor, he frowned. Something felt different, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. The shard reflected the dim hallway, but in its fractured surface, he swore he saw movement—a figure that wasn’t there when he looked directly.

In the apartment next door, a new tenant arrived. A woman, her hair dark and eyes hidden behind large sunglasses. She carried herself with an air of secrecy, almost as if she were hiding from something—someone. The other tenants watched her with suspicion, though they couldn't exactly say why. There was something about her that felt... off.

The woman made no attempt to socialize, only leaving her apartment to disappear into the building's eerie hallways each evening. And, always, she returned just before midnight, carrying a small bundle wrapped in a white cloth.

One evening, the woman, whom the neighbors had begun to call "The Stranger," left her apartment again, the bundle in tow. This time, her steps faltered as she approached the door at the end of the hall—the one that had been locked for years.

No one had ever seen anyone stand there for so long before, but tonight, the Stranger did. Her fingers brushed the cold doorknob, and the air around her seemed to hum with a strange energy. Her mouth trembled in a grin, mirroring something long buried.

Slowly, she turned the knob. The door opened.

Inside, the room was empty. The mirror, however, had been replaced. A fresh, flawless surface reflected nothing but the room itself—until the Stranger stepped into its frame.

The reflection, at first, was normal. But slowly, her image shifted. Her lips pulled into a wide grin. The reflection leaned forward, pressing its palm against the glass.

“Welcome,” it whispered, its voice low and familiar.

The Stranger’s grin widened in response.

And beyond the door, behind her back, the shadows began to stir.

To be continued...

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