The Devil Behind My Smile

The first time I saw my reflection smile at me, I knew something was terribly wrong. It was almost midnight, and I was standing barefoot in the bathroom, staring down at the red water circling the drain. Blood covered my fingers and stained the skin beneath my nails, but none of it belonged to me. I had checked myself twice already. No cuts. No wounds. Nothing that could explain why I looked like I had just walked away from a murder scene. I turned off the tap and slowly raised my eyes to the mirror. My reflection looked exactly like me at first—messy dark hair, tired eyes, oversized T-shirt, and the faint crease between my brows that appeared whenever my headache became unbearable. I touched my forehead and sighed. “Great. Either I'm losing my mind or tonight has officially become the worst night of my life.” My reflection didn't laugh at my joke. She smiled. I froze. The smile stretched slowly across her lips while my own mouth remained completely still. I stepped backward. She stepped forward. My heart slammed against my ribs. “What the hell?” I whispered. She tilted her head. I didn't. Then she lifted her hand and pressed her palm against the glass. I stared at it, unable to breathe. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Somehow, I understood her anyway. Don't let him find you. A sharp crack split the mirror. I jumped as a thin line spread across the glass, followed by another, then another, until the entire mirror looked like a spiderweb. “No, no, no…” I backed toward the door, but before I could reach it, the mirror shattered. The pieces didn't fall. They remained suspended in the air, glittering beneath the bathroom light. I stared at them in horror, and then I realized every single piece showed the same person. A boy. He looked around my age, maybe slightly older, with black hair, unnaturally pale skin, and eyes so dark red they seemed to glow. He wore a long black coat, and there was something about his face that made my stomach twist. I had never seen him before. I was certain of that. Yet when he looked directly at me through those broken pieces of glass, recognition rushed through me so strongly that I nearly staggered. It wasn't the feeling of recognizing a stranger. It was the feeling of remembering someone I had spent years trying to forget. Then the glass crashed to the floor. I jumped and nearly screamed when my mother's voice suddenly came from downstairs. “Elara!” Relief flooded me. “Mom?” I ran out of the bathroom and hurried down the stairs. “Mom, are you okay?” There was no answer. I reached the hallway and stopped. Three slow knocks sounded against the front door. Knock. Knock. Knock. My mother's voice came from the other side. “Elara, open the door.” I frowned. Something felt wrong. My mother never called me Elara when we were alone. She called me Ellie. Always. I moved toward the door but stopped before touching the handle. “Mom?” I called. “Why are you calling me Elara?” Silence. Then another knock. “Open the door.” I slowly looked through the glass panel beside the door, and every drop of warmth disappeared from my body. My mother was standing outside in her white nightdress, soaked from head to toe despite the fact that she had been inside the house less than five minutes ago. Her face was pale, her hair plastered against her cheeks, and her eyes were filled with raw terror. She raised one trembling finger and pointed behind me. My stomach dropped. I turned around. The boy from the mirror stood at the end of the hallway. He wasn't smiling now. He simply watched me with an expression I couldn't understand. “Who are you?” I demanded, forcing my voice not to shake. He took one step forward. “You're finally awake.” “That's not an answer.” I grabbed the metal hairbrush from the small table beside me and held it like a weapon. “Take another step and I'll find out whether that coat protects you from blunt-force trauma.” His eyebrow lifted. For the first time, something almost amused flickered in his eyes. “You always were stubborn.” My grip tightened. “I don't know you.” “You don't remember me.” “That's what I said.” His gaze dropped to my wrist. The strange mark beneath my skin suddenly burned. I winced and pulled my sleeve down. He noticed. Of course he noticed. “How long has the mark been there?” he asked. “Why?” “Elara, listen to me. You need to come with me.” I almost laughed. “A strange man appears in my house after my mirror starts talking to me, my mother is standing outside in the rain, and your solution is for me to follow you? Absolutely not.” Behind the door, my mother suddenly began pounding on the glass. “Elara! Get away from him!” I looked back at her. “Mom, what is happening?” Her lips moved, but I couldn't hear her through the glass. I turned back toward the boy. He was standing much closer. I swung the hairbrush at his head. He caught my wrist before I could hit him. “Let go of me!” The instant his skin touched mine, a violent burst of pain shot through my body. The hallway vanished. I saw fire. A massive castle stood beneath a black sky, flames climbing its towers while people ran through the snow screaming. Then I saw a woman wearing a silver crown, clutching a newborn baby against her chest. She was crying. Someone was shouting her name, but I couldn't hear it. A younger version of the boy stood beside her, holding a blood-covered sword. Then everything changed. Years passed in the blink of an eye. The boy looked exactly the same, but I was older. Much older. I stood on the steps of the same castle wearing a silver crown while hundreds of strange creatures knelt before me. The boy was on his knees at my feet, blood covering his face. He looked up at me with something that looked painfully close to fear. “Please,” he whispered. “Kill me before I remember.” I ripped my hand away. The vision disappeared. I collapsed against the wall, gasping as though someone had pulled the air from my lungs. The boy crouched in front of me. For the first time, he looked genuinely shaken. “What did you see?” “You.” His expression tightened. “What else?” I swallowed. “A castle. A woman. A baby. You were there.” He went completely still. “And me,” I continued. “I was wearing a crown.” He said nothing. Anger pushed through my fear. “Stop looking at me like you know something. Who are you?” He hesitated before answering. “Lucien.” “Lucien what?” “Just Lucien.” “Convenient.” I pushed myself upright. “Now open that door.” His eyes moved toward the entrance. The color drained from his face. “Don't.” “My mother is outside.” “Not anymore.” I turned. The front door was wide open. Rain blew across the hallway, but my mother was gone. “Mom?” I ran outside. “Mom!” I searched the porch, the garden, the road, even the ditch beside the gate. Nothing. Then something growled from the trees. I slowly turned. Several pairs of red eyes stared back at me. My body went rigid. Shapes emerged from the darkness, moving on four limbs at first before rising onto two legs. They were too tall, too thin, and far too fast. “Lucien…” I whispered. “Get inside.” He appeared beside me. “Now.” “My mother is missing!” “And if you stay here, you'll join her.” One of the creatures lunged. Lucien stepped in front of me and raised his hand. Black fire exploded from his palm, striking the creature and throwing it across the garden. I stared at him. “What are you?” “Busy.” Another creature attacked from the side. Lucien turned, but before he could raise his hand, the mark on my wrist suddenly burned. I grabbed it. A strange pulse spread through my body. The creature stopped in midair. It landed on the ground and stared at me. Then it lowered its head. Lucien stared at it. “What did you do?” “I don't know.” The creature slowly crawled toward me. “Queen,” it rasped. My blood ran cold. “What did you call me?” “Queen.” It lifted its head and looked directly into my eyes. “Our queen.” I took one step forward. “Who is your queen?” The creature's mouth opened. “You.” Its body suddenly collapsed into black ash. The other creatures fled into the trees. I stood frozen, staring at the pile of ash where it had been. Then I looked at Lucien. “Start talking.” He didn't. “Now.” His jaw tightened. “You need to leave this place.” “I'm not leaving without my mother.” “Elara—” “No.” I stepped closer. “You know something. They know something. My mother knows something. Apparently, everyone in this nightmare knows something except me, and I'm done being the only i***t in the room.” A strange expression crossed his face, and despite everything happening around us, I thought I saw the beginning of a smile. “You haven't changed.” “Stop saying things like that!” Headlights suddenly swept across the road. Three black cars stopped outside the gate. Doors opened, and several people stepped out carrying weapons that glinted silver beneath the rain. A woman with long silver hair walked toward us. The moment her eyes landed on the mark beneath my sleeve, she stopped. Her face changed completely. “After seventeen years,” she whispered. “She's finally awake.” I stepped in front of Lucien before he could shield me. “Who are you?” The woman looked at me as though I were something precious and dangerous at the same time. “We came to take you home.” “I already told someone tonight that I'm not going anywhere.” “You don't understand.” “Then explain.” Her eyes shifted toward Lucien. “He hasn't told you, has he?” Lucien's expression hardened. “Leave.” She laughed softly. “Still protecting her? After everything you did?” I looked at him. “What did you do?” “Elara, don't listen to her.” “That's becoming a very annoying sentence.” The woman smiled. “Ask him what happened seventeen years ago. Ask him why your mother hid you. Ask him why he was there the night your family died.” My breath caught. “My family?” Lucien stepped toward me. “I can explain.” “Then explain now.” He opened his mouth, but the silver-haired woman raised her weapon. “Enough. Take the girl alive.” The people behind her began moving. Lucien grabbed my hand. “Run.” “Where?” “Blackthorn Academy.” “And why exactly should I trust you?” He looked directly into my eyes. There was no arrogance in his expression now. No amusement. Only fear. “You shouldn't.” Before I could answer, the mark on my wrist burned again. A voice whispered inside my head. Don't trust Lucien.