Tenis opened her eyes. The walls were mirrors. Some cracked, some shattered, but all around her, endless reflections stretched. She swallowed, her breath turning thick. The air smelled stale, like forgotten corners of a room that hadn't been touched in years.
She was alone. No one here but her and the endless glass. She took a few steps, the sound of her shoes clicking against the floor loud in the silence. Every time she moved, there were echoes. It felt like they were waiting for her.
"Mom?" Her voice broke through the stillness. No answer.
The mirrors seemed to watch her, but she didn't know how. They didn't blink. They didn't move. Still, their eyes were there, always there.
She turned. Another mirror. It reflected her, but there was something off. Her reflection wasn't right. Her lips twitched unnaturally, like they were smiling. Her reflection inched closer, but Tenis didn't. She stood frozen, unsure of what was happening. Her reflection stopped, but it looked like it wasn't done. The way it smiled—wide, too wide—wasn't normal. It wasn't her.
"Mom?" she whispered again, backing away.
Her footsteps echoed louder now. There were more cracks in the mirrors. A sharp one to her right. She couldn't help it—she looked. The crack went from one corner to the other. Tenis stepped closer, reaching her fingers toward it. It felt wrong. It didn't feel like glass at all. It felt soft. Almost like skin.
A creak. The glass cracked more, spreading like a web. The skin beneath was wrinkled, raw. Tenis jerked her hand back.
"Who's there?" Her voice quivered.
A figure appeared in the mirror, standing behind her, just out of sight. Tenis could see it from the reflection, but not with her eyes. It was tall, too tall. She spun around, heart pounding. Nothing. The mirrors kept showing it, though, the shape, waiting, standing behind her in every reflection.
She backed up, but the more she moved, the more mirrors showed the figure. It wasn't real, she told herself. But it didn't stop following her. A soft scraping sound began—her own nails dragging across the walls, dragging across the mirrors, like a warning. Or was it the thing behind her?
The floor beneath her cracked, splintering. She looked down, but there was nothing—just a reflection of her staring up. Her own eyes, wide, terrified. She didn't move. She couldn't. She saw it now, standing in the mirror across from her, right there, in the crack. It was looking at her, with a smile so wide that it hurt her face.
She gasped. The thing was smiling at her, the real one. And then it wasn't a smile at all. It opened its mouth. No, not a mouth, but a hole—dark, endless. Tenis screamed, but no sound came out.
The crack in the mirror spread again, wide enough for her to fall through. She didn't think. She didn't care. She jumped.
Her reflection stayed where it was. It smiled again. Her fingers reached out as she fell. She could still hear the scraping sound, even as everything moved faster now. It was getting closer, the thing. She could feel its breath.
Her fingers touched glass. The air burned in her lungs.
The last thing Tenis saw before everything ended wasn't her reflection.
It was the thing's mouth, wide and empty.