The rain outside had dwindled to a soft murmur, but inside Adrian's apartment, the silence pressed on him like a vice. He stood by the window, staring into the darkness that seemed to pulse with its own malevolent life. The reflection from the night before—its grotesque grin, its hollow eyes—still haunted him. His hands trembled as he clutched the black notebook, his thoughts tangled in the chilling words that echoed through his mind: "The mirror is the key."
Adrian glanced at the mirror hanging in his hallway. It had been there for as long as he could remember, a simple, unassuming fixture. But now, every time he looked at it, he felt a gnawing dread, as if it held secrets he wasn't meant to uncover. His heart thudded in his chest as he approached it, his reflection staring back at him, unchanged yet somehow wrong. The words in the notebook circled in his head, a mantra he couldn't shake: Break it, and you may survive.
He reached out, his fingertips brushing the cold glass. For a moment, nothing happened. His reflection blinked back at him, perfectly synchronized, an ordinary image. But then, a flicker—so brief, so subtle that he almost missed it.
Adrian's breath caught. The reflection's eyes darkened, just for a second, as if something inside was watching him, waiting for him to act. His stomach twisted, a cold, sharp fear settling in his gut. He took a step back, heart hammering against his ribs.
This was madness. He was a man of science, grounded in logic and reason. And yet, nothing about this felt logical. Nothing about it felt explainable. The girl's arrival, the reflection's appearance, the cryptic messages in the notebook—they were pieces of a puzzle that defied everything he knew.
Adrian swallowed hard, his throat dry. He knew what he had to do. There was no escaping this—whatever "this" was. The reflection wasn't just an apparition or a trick of his mind. It was real. It was here. And it wanted something from him.
With trembling hands, Adrian picked up a heavy glass vase from the table beside him. He gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning white. The weight of it in his hands felt reassuring, something solid in a world that was rapidly slipping into chaos.
Without giving himself time to second-guess, Adrian hurled the vase at the mirror.
The shattering sound filled the apartment, a deafening crack that seemed to echo through the very fabric of reality. Glass exploded outward, shards cascading to the floor in a glittering rain. Adrian stumbled backward, the force of his own action startling him.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. The mirror lay in jagged pieces, his reflection fractured into a thousand tiny shards.
Then the room… shifted.
The walls around him seemed to bend, the light flickering as though the power had momentarily cut out. Adrian felt a sudden, overwhelming dizziness, as if the ground beneath his feet was tilting. He gripped the back of a chair to steady himself, his vision swimming.
The air had grown thick, suffocating, and a low hum filled the space. It wasn't the familiar hum of the city or the distant buzz of the rain—it was something deeper, more primal, vibrating at the edge of his awareness. Adrian's ears rang with it, his skin prickling.
He blinked, trying to clear his head, but when he opened his eyes, he wasn't alone.
The reflection stood in the doorway, just as it had the night before. Only this time, its grin was gone, replaced by a look of pure malevolence. Its eyes gleamed, dark and empty, as though they were voids, swallowing the light around them.
"You shouldn't have done that," it whispered, its voice a distorted mockery of Adrian's own. The sound crawled under his skin, setting his nerves alight with fear.
Adrian backed away instinctively, his pulse racing. "What... what are you?"
The reflection stepped forward, its movements fluid yet unnatural, as though it were moving through a different plane of existence. Its form flickered at the edges, like a corrupted image struggling to hold its shape.
"I am you," it said simply, its voice reverberating in the small apartment. "The part of you that you keep hidden. The part that you fear."
Adrian's mouth went dry. He felt the weight of those words settle over him, crushing in their truth. There had always been a part of him—dark, buried beneath layers of control and reason—that he had kept locked away. He had pushed it down, ignored it, convinced himself that it didn't exist.
But it did.
"You can't hide from it anymore," the reflection said, its eyes narrowing as it stepped closer. "It's too late. The door is open."
Adrian's back hit the wall, his escape blocked. The reflection towered over him now, its face mere inches from his. He could feel the cold emanating from its body, a chill that seeped into his bones.
"What do you want?" Adrian demanded, his voice trembling despite his efforts to stay calm.
The reflection's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "I want what you've always wanted. Freedom."
"Freedom from what?"
"From yourself," the reflection hissed. "From the lies you tell, the masks you wear. I am the truth, Adrian. I am the part of you that you fear because I know what you're truly capable of."
Adrian clenched his fists, his mind racing. He couldn't let this thing—this twisted version of himself—take over. He had to fight it, had to hold on to who he was, no matter the cost.
"I won't let you," Adrian said, his voice firmer now. "I'm not afraid of you."
The reflection's grin widened, its form flickering once more, its eyes glinting with something dark and terrible. "Oh, but you are, Adrian. You always have been."
With a sudden, violent motion, the reflection lunged.
Adrian reacted on instinct, throwing himself to the side just as the reflection's hand slammed into the wall where he had been standing. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, the walls vibrating as though reality itself had been struck.
He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't let the reflection win. He had to destroy it—completely. But how? Breaking the mirror hadn't stopped it. If anything, it had made things worse.
His eyes darted around the room, searching for something—anything—that could help him. His gaze fell on the notebook, still lying open on the floor amidst the broken glass.
The words stared up at him, mocking in their simplicity: The reflection is just one of many.
One of many. The thought sent a chill down Adrian's spine. How many more were there? How many versions of himself were waiting, lurking in the shadows, ready to take his place?
The reflection moved toward him again, slower this time, as though savoring the moment. Adrian clenched his jaw, steeling himself for what he had to do.
He grabbed the notebook and ran.
The reflection's laughter followed him as he bolted out of the apartment, down the dimly lit hallway, and into the night.