CHAPTER VII - The Thing that Wears Her Face
803 Words
Eve didn’t remember moving, but suddenly she was in the hallway, back pressed against the cold wall, staring at the shattered remains of the mirror. Her pulse pounded in her ears, the silence stretching too long, too thick. The air in the apartment felt wrong—warped, like a deep breath held too long, waiting to be released.
She needed to leave. Now.
But she didn’t move.
A noise—small, deliberate.
A footstep.
Her stomach twisted violently.
The step hadn’t come from her. It came from the mirror’s remains.
Eve’s breath stuttered. She dared a glance at the largest shard of glass still wedged into the frame.
Her reflection was still there.
But it wasn’t hers.
The Other Eve was smiling.
She was stepping forward.
Eve stumbled back, her heart hammering against her ribs, her thoughts a blur of static and disbelief. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t possible.
A sharp knock at the door made her jerk violently.
Her lungs felt like they were shrinking, her skin too tight. Every instinct screamed at her not to open it.
Knock. Knock.
More insistent now.
She forced herself to move, her limbs slow and unwilling, as if she were wading through something thick and invisible. Each step toward the door felt like a mistake.
She pressed her eyes to the peephole.
Victor Hale stood outside.
The pressure in her skull tightened.
She shouldn’t open it.
But she did.
Victor stepped inside like he belonged there, his presence filling the small space with something heavy. His gaze drifted to the shattered mirror, then back to her. His expression didn’t change.
"You left it open again."
The words hit her like ice water. A foreign sense of dread curled in her gut.
She swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"
Victor studied her for a moment, then tilted his head ever so slightly. "The door, Eve. You need to be careful."
Her chest tightened. She felt like she was standing on the edge of something vast, something she couldn’t see but could feel pulling at her.
Victor stepped closer, lowering his voice. "She’s waiting."
A shiver ran down her spine. She didn’t ask who.
Because deep down, she already knew.
Eve moved toward the kitchen, her movements slow, careful. Victor didn’t follow right away. He lingered in the living room, his gaze still fixed on the mirror shards scattered across the floor.
She gripped the counter, her breath shallow. "Victor," she started, voice unsteady. "What’s happening to me?"
For a moment, there was silence. Then, his voice, calm and knowing: "You’re starting to remember."
She turned to face him. "Remember what?" The words came out sharper than she intended.
"I don’t understand any of this! My reflection—" She exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temple. "I saw it move. It—it’s not me."
Victor finally met her eyes, something unreadable flickering behind his expression. "That’s because it isn’t."
Eve’s hands clenched. "Then who the hell is she?"
Victor took a slow step toward her, his presence suffocating in the small space. "She’s what’s left when you start to slip. The part of you that watches from the other side."
He glanced back at the mirror shards. "And she’s getting stronger."
Eve’s knees felt weak. She gripped the counter tighter. "How do I stop it?"
Victor’s lips twitched, just slightly. "Who said you could?"
A chill spread through her. She didn’t notice at first, but something in the room had shifted. The air was heavier, the silence louder. And then—
A soft laugh.
Not from Victor.
Not from her.
The sound came from the mirror.
The largest shard still reflected the room, but there was something else. A shadow behind Victor. A shape that shouldn’t be there.
Her.
No. Not her.
The Other Eve.
She was standing just behind him, her head still tilted in that unnatural, predatory way. Her lips curved into a smirk, her fingers dragging lazily along the edge of the broken glass.
Then, her mouth moved, forming silent words that Eve somehow understood.
"Let me in."
Eve felt the floor beneath her tilt. The room swayed.
Victor reached for her wrist just as she staggered. "Breathe," he murmured, his grip grounding her. "Don’t listen to her."
The mirror shard flickered.
And then—the Other Eve moved.
Not in the reflection.
She moved into the real world.
The laughter became louder, distorted, overlapping like an echo that didn’t belong. The shadows stretched. Victor’s grip tightened on her wrist.
"Eve," he warned.
She couldn’t breathe. The room was shrinking. The walls pressing in. Her vision blurred as the reflection stepped closer, closer—
Then—
The lights exploded.
A burst of shattering glass. A scream—hers or someone else’s, she wasn’t sure.
And the world fell into darkness again.
- Writer
