It started as a thought that wasn’t mine.
Not loud. Not obvious.
Just… wrong.
I was brushing my teeth when it first happened—standing in front of the bathroom mirror, half-awake, staring at my reflection like I always did.
And then, in the middle of my own thoughts—
Turn around.
I froze.
The toothbrush stopped moving.
“…what?” I muttered, foam gathering at the corner of my mouth.
Silence.
Just the hum of the light above me.
I shook my head and laughed it off. People have weird thoughts all the time, right? Random impulses. Brain glitches.
So I spat, rinsed, and went back to my routine.
But as I leaned toward the sink—
Don’t look behind you.
The voice was clearer this time.
Sharper.
Not like a thought.
Like a whisper placed carefully inside my head.
My reflection didn’t react.
It just stared back at me.
Normal.
Perfectly normal.
I gripped the sink.
“Okay… not funny,” I said to no one.
Then, slowly—
I looked behind me.
Nothing.
Empty bathroom. Closed door. Still air.
I turned back to the mirror—
And for a split second—
My reflection was smiling.
I wasn’t.
The voice didn’t go away.
It stayed.
Quiet at first.
Subtle.
Slipping into my thoughts like it had always belonged there.
You forgot to lock the door.
Don’t trust that sound.
Someone is watching you.
Sometimes it helped.
Sometimes it warned me about things before they happened—like a glass slipping off the edge of a table or a car speeding through a red light.
It made me feel… safe.
Until it started saying things I couldn’t ignore.
They’re not real.
I frowned. “Who?”
Anyone but you.
I laughed nervously. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
The voice didn’t respond.
But it didn’t leave either.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
And slowly, I realized something worse.
The voice wasn’t reacting to my thoughts.
It was anticipating them.
I’d start to think something—
And it would finish it.
I’d reach for my phone—
And it would tell me who was calling before I saw the screen.
It knew me.
Better than I knew myself.
“Who are you?” I whispered one night, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
A long pause.
Then—
I’m you.
“No,” I said immediately. “No, you’re not.”
I’m the part you don’t look at.
The room felt colder.
I turned onto my side, trying to ignore it.
“I don’t want this.”
You already have it.
Sleep got worse.
Because that’s when the voice was loudest.
Not just whispers anymore.
Conversations.
Arguments.
Sometimes it would talk while I was dreaming—and I’d wake up mid-sentence, realizing I had been answering it out loud.
One night, I woke up standing.
In front of the mirror.
Again.
My eyes were open.
But I hadn’t chosen to wake up.
“…what are you doing?” I whispered.
My reflection tilted its head slightly.
Not matching me.
Then—
It spoke.
Without moving its lips.
You’re in the way.
My stomach dropped.
“I’m… what?”
I see better than you.
My body didn’t move.
But something inside me shifted.
Like I had taken a step back without going anywhere.
“I don’t want this,” I said again, more desperate now.
The voice didn’t whisper this time.
It answered from everywhere.
You don’t have to want it.
My reflection leaned closer to the glass.
And so did I.
But I wasn’t the one moving.
“I’m still here,” I said, trying to hold on to something solid. “I’m still me.”
A pause.
Then—
For now.
The next morning, things felt… quieter.
Too quiet.
The voice was gone.
No whispers.
No interruptions.
Just my own thoughts again.
It should’ve felt like relief.
But it didn’t.
It felt like something had stepped out of the room… but left the door open.
I went to the bathroom slowly.
Stared into the mirror.
My reflection stared back.
Perfectly in sync.
Normal.
I let out a breath.
“Okay,” I whispered. “It’s over.”
Then I blinked.
Just once.
And in that single blink—
Something else looked out through my eyes.
Not for long.
Just enough.
And from somewhere deep behind them—
I heard it again.
Not as a whisper.
Not as a thought.
But as a voice using my own mouth.
“…my turn.”
Write by : Endomarfa
