The quietness of Emily's bedroom stretched out, blanketing her in an exhausted haze. Her head felt heavy, her thoughts scattered, like she was floating in water. She was vaguely aware of her bed beneath her, of the soft ticking of the clock on her wall. She'd been dreaming, but now she was waking up, the dream evaporating like mist. The room felt different, though; there was an unsettling stillness in the air as if the world were holding its breath.

Emily sat up slowly, running a hand through her tangled hair. Her bedside lamp was off, casting her room into shadow. The familiar outlines of her furniture—her dresser, desk, and wardrobe—seemed sharper, more defined. The clock on her nightstand read 3:24 AM.

She rubbed her temples, trying to shake off the eerie sense of disorientation. Her throat felt dry, and her skin prickled with a strange chill. *I just need some water,* she thought, swinging her legs out of bed. She hesitated for a moment, glancing toward her bedroom door, half-expecting something to be lurking on the other side.

*It's just a dream,* she told herself. *You're awake now.*

Emily stood, pulling her cardigan around her as she made her way to the hallway. The wooden floor was cool beneath her bare feet, and with each step, her unease grew. Darkness shrouded the apartment, making the usual comforting hum of her refrigerator and the quiet ticking of the clock suddenly loud, as if magnified by the silence. She took slow, cautious steps down the hall, feeling a gnawing tension building in the pit of her stomach.

The bathroom door stood ajar, the faint glow of moonlight filtering in through the small, foggy window above the sink. She reached for the light switch and flicked it on, but the bulb only flickered once, then went dead, leaving her in shadow. She cursed under her breath, stepping further into the bathroom as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Then she froze.

In the reflection of the mirror, she could see the bathtub, and in the bathtub was a figure. A woman was sitting in the tub, her back turned to Emily, her hair matted and dark, clinging to her skin like tendrils of seaweed. The woman's skin appeared pale, almost grey, and she had smeared dark red liquid across her arms, staining the surrounding water a sickening shade of crimson.

Emily's heart lurched, her breath catching in her throat. She took a shaky step back, her mind struggling to process what she saw. The figure in the tub remained motionless, her head tilted slightly forward, her shoulders slumped. The room was silent, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood.

*This isn't real,* she thought desperately. *This is just… it's still part of a dream.*

But the smell was so strong, the sight so vivid, that it felt all too real. She could see each rivulet of blood tracing its way down the woman's arms, mingling with the water, turning it darker and darker until it was almost black. The woman's breathing was shallow, so quiet that Emily could barely hear it over the thudding of her own heart.

In a surge of panic, Emily's hand shot to the bathroom door, gripping the handle so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She was rooted to the spot, unable to tear her eyes away from the woman in the mirror. Her chest tightened, every instinct screaming at her to leave, to run.

But something compelled her to stay. She needed to know who this woman was, why she was here, and how any of this was happening. Against every instinct, she took a hesitant step forward, her gaze fixed on the figure in the tub.

Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the woman's head began to turn.

Emily's breath caught in her throat, her muscles locking up as the figure shifted, her movements jerky and unnatural, as if her bones were grinding against one another. The woman's face came into view, her hollow eyes staring blankly ahead, empty and lifeless. Her skin was sallow, stretched taut over sharp cheekbones, her lips colourless, parted slightly in an expression that was neither a smile nor a frown.

Emily felt a wave of nausea rises in her stomach. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her mouth dry as she fought the urge to scream. But she was paralyzed, trapped in her own body, her gaze locked with the woman's vacant stare. The woman's head tilted to the side, her eyes widening as if she'd only just noticed Emily's presence.

Emily's knees buckled, and she clung to the edge of the sink for support, her fingers trembling. She tried to look away, to break free from the woman's gaze, but her body wouldn't respond. She could feel the cold, clammy sensation of fear spreading through her, the kind that left her limbs numb and her chest tight.

Then, without warning, the woman's mouth stretched into a wide, unnatural grin. It wasn't a smile of warmth or welcome—it was a grotesque, twisted expression, the corners of her mouth pulled back so far that the skin cracked, beads of blood seeping from the torn flesh. Her eyes remained hollow, unseeing, yet Emily felt as though they were boring into her, peeling away layers of her soul.

Emily tried to scream, but no sound came out. Her hands clawed at the edge of the sink, her fingers digging into the porcelain as the woman's grin widened further, impossibly wide, her jaw unhinging as though it were a door opening into darkness.

And then, with a sudden, violent movement, the woman lurched forward, her bony fingers reaching out toward Emily.

Emily stumbled backwards, finally finding her voice as a scream tore from her throat. She backed into the wall, her entire body shaking, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. But when she looked up, the woman was gone.

The bathroom was empty.

Emily stood there, gasping for breath, her body drenched in sweat. Her mind was reeling, her thoughts racing as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She glanced at the mirror, half-expecting to see the woman's face staring back at her, but there was only her reflection, pale and wide-eyed, her chest heaving with each ragged breath.

Her hands shook as she reached for the sink, gripping the edge for support. The silence pressed in around her, thick and oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of the pipes. She forced herself to take deep, steady breaths, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

*It was a dream,* she told herself. *Just a dream.* But the words rang hollow, the memory of the woman's face seared into her mind, as vivid as any waking moment.

She glanced down; her gaze drawn to the drain at the bottom of the sink. A single drop of dark red liquid clung to the edge, trembling as if it were alive. Emily's stomach twisted, a wave of nausea sweeping over her as she watched it drip slowly into the drain, disappearing into the darkness below.

She took a step back, her breath coming in shallow gasps, the walls of the bathroom feeling as though they were closing in on her. She stumbled out of the room, her mind racing, her heart pounding so loudly that it drowned out all other sounds.

She collapsed onto her bed, clutching her pillow as she buried her face in it, trying to block out the images flashing through her mind. The woman's hollow eyes, her twisted smile, the sickening stench of blood—it all lingered, a haunting reminder of something she couldn't escape.

Minutes passed, then hours, and still she lay there, wide awake, the shadows stretching across her room as dawn began to break. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, that the woman was still there, lurking just beyond her line of sight, waiting for the right moment to reappear.

When the first rays of sunlight crept into her room, she let out a shaky breath, the darkness finally retreating. But the sense of unease remained a constant presence that refused to let her go.

And as she sat there, clutching her pillow, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning—that there was more to come, more nightmares waiting for her, lurking just beyond the edge of her reality.