The mirror haunted me.
It had been two nights since I'd seen the images, visions I couldn't explain, faces that weren't mine, well, looked like mine, staring back with eyes too knowing, too sharp, as if they'd been watching me long before I realized it. Every time I shut my eyes, the ghost of that reflection hovered, pressing down on my chest.
I told myself it had been a trick of the light. A dream. Anything but real. Yet every morning, when I stood before that same mirror to brush my hair, my hand trembled as though the glass might open up again and drag me through. Am I really losing my mind or did what I had seen been real?
I wasn't sure which terrified me more.
So I avoided everyone. But avoiding Atlas was impossible. He always found me.
In class that morning, I slid i
