Adrian's hands trembled as he clutched the worn, black notebook to his chest, his breath ragged in the cold, damp air of the hospital corridor. The pages had revealed little about what he needed to do, only more cryptic warnings, more fragmented clues. But one thing was clear: the mirror was the key, and if he didn't destroy it soon, everything would spiral beyond his control.
The hallway stretched out before him, seemingly endless, its flickering lights casting long, distorted shadows on the walls. The oppressive silence weighed heavy on his mind, but in the distance, he could hear it—the faint, rhythmic tapping of footsteps. Not his own, but something following him, something that seemed to grow louder with every passing second.
Adrian's pulse quickened. He knew what it was. The reflection. It was coming again, relentless in its pursuit to replace him, to consume him. His heart pounded in his chest as the dread took root in his veins, spreading like a cold poison. Every step he took seemed to echo louder, merging with the distant footsteps that were no longer so distant.
The mirror room. He had to reach it.
His shoes scuffed the floor as he quickened his pace, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. The corridor behind him was empty, but that did little to soothe his nerves. He could feel its presence creeping closer, its malevolent energy seeping through the air like a toxin. It was coming. It was always coming.
The notebook in his hand felt heavier now, almost as if it were pulling him toward his fate, urging him to face the nightmare he had awakened. As he rounded a corner, his eyes locked onto a door at the far end of the hall. The room where it all began—the room where he had seen the twisted reflection of himself staring back from the old, cracked mirror.
He swallowed hard, forcing his legs to move faster, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. The reflection's voice echoed in his mind, taunting him, whispering of the darkness that had always lurked within him. The idea that he had sought this out, that he had craved it, gnawed at his sanity. Was it true? Had he been drawn to this cursed place because, deep down, he wanted to confront his inner darkness?
The door loomed closer, and with a shaky hand, Adrian pushed it open.
Inside, the room was as he remembered it—small, claustrophobic, with a single chair positioned in front of the tall, grimy mirror that stood against the far wall. Dust floated through the air, catching the faint light from the exposed bulb above. The mirror itself was old, its surface cracked and warped, as though the glass was barely holding together under some unseen pressure.
Adrian's reflection greeted him from across the room, but this time it wasn't distorted, it wasn't grinning. It looked back at him with weary eyes, mirroring his exhaustion, his fear. For a brief moment, Adrian thought it was just him, that perhaps the reflection had been a hallucination born of his fraying mind.
But then it blinked.
Adrian's stomach lurched. His reflection tilted its head, its lips curling into a familiar, unsettling grin. It raised a hand, mimicking his movements, but with a delayed, twisted grace, as though it was playing a macabre game.
"No," Adrian whispered, his voice barely audible. "This has to end."
With trembling hands, he pulled the notebook open once more, flipping through the brittle pages. "The reflection is just one of many. The mirror is the key. Break it, and you may survive."
His gaze snapped back to the mirror. The reflection was closer now, standing just behind the glass, as though it could step through at any moment. The grin on its face widened, its eyes gleaming with malevolent glee.
Adrian's fingers tightened around the notebook. He couldn't hesitate. The mirror had to be destroyed. He had no other choice. His eyes darted around the room, looking for something—anything—that could shatter the glass and put an end to this nightmare.
His heart raced as he spotted a heavy, rusted metal rod lying in the corner. Without thinking, he lunged for it, the weight of it feeling solid in his hands, grounding him in the moment. The reflection, sensing his intent, moved as well, its movements growing more frantic, more erratic. It pounded against the glass, its mouth open in a silent scream, as if trying to escape before Adrian could act.
But it was too late.
With a yell, Adrian swung the rod at the mirror. The glass exploded in a shower of jagged shards, the sound deafening as it shattered into a thousand pieces. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The reflection's face contorted in horror, its form flickering, warping, as though reality itself was rejecting it.
Then, with a final, ear-piercing scream, the reflection disintegrated, dissolving into the void behind the mirror.
Adrian collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. The room was silent now, save for the gentle clinking of broken glass settling on the floor. His hands were shaking, blood dripping from his palm where a shard of glass had cut him. But he didn't care. The reflection was gone. It was over.
Or so he thought.
As he stared at the shattered remains of the mirror, something stirred within the darkness behind it. A low, rumbling sound, like the growl of a distant thunderstorm. The air in the room grew colder, the temperature plummeting as an unnatural chill swept through the space.
Adrian's blood ran cold. The mirror may have been destroyed, but whatever lay beyond it… was not gone.
From the void, something moved.
Something far worse than his reflection.
The abyss had opened, and now it beckoned him forward.