I'd always been drawn to the abandoned mansion on the hill. Rumors swirled that it was cursed, that anyone who entered would never return. But I didn't believe it. I had to see it for myself.

As I stepped inside, a chill ran down my spine. The air was thick with dust, and cobwebs clung to the chandeliers. I wandered from room to room, my footsteps echoing off the walls.

That's when I saw it. A mirror, hanging in a doorway. It was an antique, with intricate carvings and a glass surface that seemed to ripple and distort.

I approached the mirror, feeling a strange sense of unease. As I gazed into its depths, I saw my own reflection staring back. But something was off. My eyes seemed darker, my skin paler.

And then, I saw it. A crack, spreading across the surface of the glass. It was as if my reflection was shattering, breaking apart into a thousand pieces.

I stumbled backward, horrified. But as I turned to flee, I realized that I was not alone. The mirror seemed to be reflecting images that were not my own. Dark, twisted figures that seemed to be moving, twisting, and writhing.

I tried to run, but my feet seemed rooted to the spot. The figures in the mirror began to laugh, their voices echoing off the walls. And then, the mirror seemed to explode, shattering into a thousand pieces.

I stumbled out of the mansion, gasping for air. But as I looked back, I saw something that made my blood run cold. The mirror, reassembled, reflecting an image that was not my own.

It was me, but not me. A twisted, corrupted version, with eyes that glowed like embers. And as I watched, the reflection began to move, twisting and writhing like a living thing.

I knew then that I had to get out of there, to escape the mansion and its twisted, shattered mirror. But as I turned to run, I realized that I was not alone.

The reflection was following me.