Act 1 – The First Signs
Lena never paid much attention to her reflection. It was just there—a necessary presence in her morning routine, a tool to check her makeup, adjust her hair, or make sure she didn’t look half-dead before heading out for work.
But one evening, standing in front of the antique mirror she had inherited from her grandmother, she noticed something off.
It was subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. A flicker of movement that didn’t align with her own. A delay in the way her reflection lifted its brush. She paused mid-motion, watching herself in the dim yellow light of the bathroom. The hesitation had been small, so small she might have missed it had she not been so tired.
She blinked rapidly and shook her head. It’s nothing. Just fatigue.
Over the next few days, it happened again.
Her reflection was too slow to turn away, its eyes seemed to linger on her even after she looked elsewhere. Sometimes, its expression seemed subtly different—a tilt of the lips when hers were pressed in a neutral line, a slight widening of the eyes when hers remained relaxed.
Still, she ignored it. Maybe I need more sleep. Maybe I’m just seeing things.
Then, one night, as she reached for the light switch in the bathroom, she saw it.
Her reflection did not move.
It stood there, watching her with wide, unblinking eyes.
And then, slowly, its lips curled into a smirk.
Lena stumbled backward, her breath catching in her throat. Her heartbeat pounded so loudly that she thought she might pass out. She forced herself to move, scrambling out of the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind her.
She didn’t sleep that night.
________________________________________
The next morning, she avoided the bathroom entirely, brushing her teeth at the kitchen sink and dressing without checking the full-length mirror by her closet. But the sensation of something watching her lingered a pressure on the back of her neck, an electric awareness that made her skin prickle.
At work, her reflection seemed normal in the tinted glass of the office windows. Still, she avoided looking too long. Every reflective surface now felt like a potential threat.
By the time she got home, exhaustion had begun to dull her nerves. The apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that should have been comforting but instead felt oppressive. She hesitated outside the bathroom door before forcing herself to enter. The towel she had thrown over the mirror last night was still there, draped like a shroud.
This is ridiculous, she thought. It was just my imagination. Just stress.
With a deep breath, she grabbed the towel and yanked it down.
Her reflection stared back, perfectly aligned.
Lena let out a shaky breath and managed a nervous laugh. See? Normal. Everything’s fine.
But as she turned to leave, something shifted in the mirror.
Not a big movement. Just a twitch, a slight lag, like a video buffering for half a second too long.
She gripped the doorframe, willing herself to look back, to confirm she was just being paranoid. But her reflection was normal again.
I need sleep.
________________________________________
That night, the dream came.
She stood in front of the mirror in darkness. The apartment was gone the world outside the edges of the reflection was nothing but void. She tried to move, but her reflection didn’t follow. It stood still, watching her.
Then it reached out.
Lena woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat, heart hammering like a trapped animal. She reached blindly for the lamp, flooding the room with light. Every inch of her screamed to stay in bed, to keep the blanket pulled up tight, but something compelled her forward.
Her bedroom mirror was right where it had always been, reflecting nothing but the familiar surroundings of her room.
But the bed in the reflection was empty.
A choked cry caught in her throat as she stumbled back, knocking over the lamp. The light flickered, casting erratic shadows across the walls. She scrambled to turn it back on, her breath coming in sharp, terrified bursts.
When she looked again, her reflection was back in place.
But it was smiling.
________________________________________
Lena removed every mirror in the apartment the next morning. She carried them all outside, leaving them by the dumpster, refusing to look at them too long in case she caught something she didn’t want to see.
But mirrors weren’t the only reflective surfaces.
The blank screen of her television. The dark glass of her microwave. The gleaming surface of her phone when it was turned off. She became hyper-aware of them, of how they always seemed to catch her at the wrong angle, distorting her features in ways that didn’t feel right.
Then, she saw it in a window.
She had been passing by a storefront late at night, the glass catching her reflection. But this time, her reflection stopped walking even as she moved forward.
She turned sharply, her breath hitching, but the reflection caught up a split second later.
She ran the rest of the way home.
________________________________________
Days passed in a blur of exhaustion. The thing in the mirror—whatever it was—was getting stronger. She could feel it watching even when she wasn’t looking.
Then came the whispering.
It started as a low hum at night, like someone murmuring just beyond the edge of hearing. It came from the walls, from the shadows, from the covered mirror in the hallway.
One night, as she lay awake staring at the ceiling, she heard it clearer than ever before.
"Let me in."
She bolted upright, every nerve in her body screaming. The voice had come from the closet mirror—the one she had covered weeks ago.
The cover was gone.
And standing in the mirror was her reflection.
Only it wasn’t mimicking her anymore.
It was grinning, eyes too dark, too hollow, fingers twitching with anticipation.
"You can’t hide forever."
Lena screamed.
________________________________________
She smashed every reflective surface she could find. The mirrors, the TV, even her phone screen—shattering glass littered her floor, jagged shards reflecting dozens of fragmented versions of herself. But even in those, she saw the thing grinning back at her.
It wasn’t gone.
It was free.
Lena didn’t remember running. She barely registered the cold air biting at her skin as she fled her apartment, leaving everything behind. She checked into a hotel, locked the door, covered the bathroom mirror, and kept every light on.
But just before dawn, there was a knock.
Soft. Rhythmic. Insistent.
Her heart stopped.
She shouldn’t answer.
But she did.
And standing in the dim hallway light was herself.
Not a reflection. Not a trick of the glass.
Her.
Lena didn’t scream. She wanted to, but the sound was trapped in her throat, swallowed by the weight of terror pressing down on her chest. She stumbled back, slamming the door shut before the thing in the hallway could take another step forward.
The knock came again. Soft. Rhythmic.
"Let me in."
Her hands trembled as she locked the deadbolt, backing away until she hit the farthest corner of the room. The hotel walls felt too thin, the lights too dim. Her breath came in ragged gasps. The air was thick with something unseen, something wrong.
Then the whispers started.
They seeped through the walls, curling around her ears like cold fingers.
"You can’t run forever."
"You belong with me."
She clenched her eyes shut, covering her ears. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
A sharp crack split through the silence. Her eyes flew open. The bathroom mirror.
The covered mirror. The one she had checked and double-checked before getting into bed. The cloth now lay on the floor, crumpled like discarded skin.
And in the reflection—
Her double stood inside the glass, hands pressed against the surface, its grin stretching too wide, too unnatural. Its eyes weren’t just dark; they were hollow as if something inside had scooped them out and left nothing behind.
Lena turned to run, but the air thickened around her. The room groaned. The lights flickered.
"I’m coming through."
The mirror shattered.
GTheglassexploded outward, and Lena screamed, shielding her face as the shards rained down around her. She stumbled, falling to the floor, her palms cutting against the fragments. The sharp sting of pain barely registered over the sound of something crawling from the broken remains of the mirror.
A hand. Pale. Slender fingers stretching and flexing. Then another. And then—
It pulled itself through.
Her double stepped onto the hotel carpet as if testing new ground, tilting its head in amusement.
Lena scrambled backward, slipping on the glass, her breath coming in panicked gasps. She pressed herself against the door, fumbling for the handle, but it was too late.
The thing—her reflection—crouched beside her, reaching out.
"It’s time to trade places."
It lunged. Hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her forward, and suddenly—
The world flipped.
Cold. Weightless. Empty.
Lena blinked. She was standing.
Back in the mirror.
She turned, pressing her hands against the smooth, cold surface of the glass. The hotel room was in front of her. The broken mirror. The flickering light. And in the center of it all—
Her. Her body. The thing now inside her body.
It stretched, testing its limbs, flexing fingers that were no longer hers. Then, slowly, it turned to face the mirror.
It smiled.
Lena pounded on the glass. "No! No, let me out! Let me out!" But the words were swallowed by silence, lost to the void she was now trapped in.
Her reflection raised a hand. Waved.
Then, without another glance, it walked to the door and stepped out of the room.
Leaving Lena behind. Forever.
________________________________________
Days passed. Maybe weeks. Time was meaningless in the mirror.
Lena screamed until she had no voice left. She clawed at the glass, but there was no escape. She could see everything—people coming and going, the world moving without her. But no one ever saw her. No one noticed the girl trapped inside the mirror, pounding, begging for release.
Then, one night, a woman entered the hotel room. She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her hair, oblivious to the horror staring back at her.
Lena pressed her hands against the glass. She tried to call out, but the woman didn’t hear.
Then the whispers started again.
The woman froze. She turned, staring at the mirror, her brow furrowing as though she sensed something. Lena’s heart pounded.
The woman leaned closer.
And, in the reflection, Lena smiled.
________________________________________
One night, long after Lena had lost track of time, the door to the hotel room swung open. A woman stepped inside, dragging a suitcase behind her, her heels clicking against the floor. She moved with the ease of someone unaware of the unseen horror lurking within the mirror.
Lena pressed her hands against the glass.
She tried to scream, to pound her fists against the cold, smooth surface, but the sound never escaped. It was swallowed by the void, leaving only silence.
The woman went about her routine, unpacking her things, and adjusting her hair in front of the mirror—her mirror. She was inches away from Lena, separated only by the thin, invisible barrier of glass.
Then, the whispers returned.
Low. Lingering. Twisting through the air like a cold breath.
The woman froze mid-motion.
Her fingers trembled as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Slowly, cautiously, she turned her head, her eyes scanning the empty hotel room as if sensing something watching her.
Lena’s heart pounded.
The woman hesitated, then leaned closer to the mirror, studying her reflection.
And then, in the glass—
Lena smiled.
The woman jerked back, eyes widening in confusion. She hadn’t moved—hadn’t smiled. And yet, her reflection had.
She took a step closer, tilting her head. Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe it was just a trick of the dim hotel lighting.
But then, the reflection moved again.
Not a delayed mimicry. Not a hesitation.
It winked.
The woman gasped, stumbling away from the mirror, nearly knocking over the bedside lamp. Her breath came in short, uneven bursts as she stared, eyes darting between her real body and the thing inside the glass.
Lena pressed harder against the surface, desperate. She sees me. She knows something is wrong.
But the whispers grew louder.
"Stay a little longer."
"Let me in."
"You know you want to."
The woman clutched her head, squeezing her eyes shut as if she could block out the sound.
Lena pounded against the glass, her silent screams filling the void. Run! she willed. Get out of here! Don’t let it take you!
The whispers turned sickly sweet.
"Just touch the glass."
The woman’s hands twitched at her sides. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her pupils dilating. She should run. Every part of her body screamed to move, to get as far away from the mirror as possible.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she took a hesitant step forward.
Then another.
Her trembling fingers lifted, hovering just above the surface of the mirror.
"Yes," the whispers purred. "Just a little closer."
Lena’s heart slammed against her ribs. She threw her weight against the glass, clawing at the barrier, shaking her head furiously.
No. No. NO!
The woman’s fingers touched the mirror.
A breath of silence.
Then—
The world flipped.
The woman’s scream shattered the air as she was yanked forward, her body sucked into the glass as if the mirror were made of liquid.
At the same moment, something else stepped out.
The reflection.
The thing inside the mirror.
It smiled, stretching its fingers, adjusting its stolen skin like an ill-fitting coat. Then, it turned to the mirror—now solid once more—where the real woman stood inside, her face twisted in horror, pounding against the glass.
Lena knew that look.
She had worn it herself.
The whispers faded.
The new woman—the thing wearing her body—smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, picked up her phone, and hummed a quiet, eerie tune as she walked to the door.
And just before she left, she glanced back at the mirror one last time.
She winked.
Then she was gone.
Lena and the woman were left behind, trapped in the silent, endless void.
And behind them, in the darkness of the mirror, the whispers began again.
