The mirror came with the apartment.
It was already mounted to the wall when Lina moved in—tall, narrow, framed in tarnished silver that had begun to blacken at the edges. The landlord shrugged when she asked about it.
“Old piece,” he said. “Been there longer than me.”
Lina didn’t mind. In fact, she liked it. It made the tiny bedroom feel larger, deeper—like the room extended somewhere just beyond the glass.
At first, nothing was wrong.
Her reflection followed her like it should. It blinked when she blinked. Smiled when she smiled.
Until one night, it didn’t.
It was subtle.
Lina stood brushing her hair, half-asleep, staring at her own tired face. She yawned—wide, jaw cracking—and in the mirror, her reflection… hesitated.
Just a fraction of a second.
Then it yawned too.
Lina froze.
“…Okay,” she whispered, forcing a laugh. “You’re just tired.”
She went to bed, but the feeling lingered—like someone had almost said something, then stopped.
The next morning, she tested it.
She raised her hand slowly.
The reflection copied her… but not perfectly. Not smoothly.
It followed like someone learning her movements, not mirroring them.
Lina stepped closer to the glass. “Stop it.”
Her reflection smiled.
She hadn’t.
The smile was small, crooked—like it didn’t quite understand how to fit on her face.
Lina stumbled back, heart pounding. “That’s not funny.”
The reflection didn’t move this time.
It just stared.
She covered the mirror with a blanket.
That should’ve been the end of it.
But that night, at 3:12 a.m., she woke to a sound.
Tap… tap… tap…
Soft. Rhythmic.
Coming from the mirror.
Lina sat up slowly, dread crawling up her spine. The blanket was still draped over it—but something underneath was pressing outward, stretching the fabric slightly.
Tap… tap… tap…
“…Lina…”
Her breath caught.
The voice was hers.
Exactly hers.
“…you forgot something…”
“I didn’t forget anything,” she whispered.
The tapping stopped.
Silence filled the room—heavy, waiting.
Then, slowly…
The blanket slipped.
Not falling—sliding, like it was being pulled from the inside.
The mirror revealed itself inch by inch.
And in it—
Lina.
Standing there.
But not in bed.
Not where she was supposed to be.
Mirror-Lina stood upright, inches from the glass, head tilted at an unnatural angle, eyes wide and unblinking.
Watching her.
“You’re not me,” Lina said, shaking.
The reflection’s lips moved before the sound came.
“…I am what you leave behind.”
The glass rippled.
Like water.
A hand pressed against it from the inside—her hand, but wrong somehow, the fingers slightly too long, the joints bending just a little too far.
“Stop!” Lina screamed.
But the mirror didn’t listen.
It remembered.
Every time she’d looked at herself and hated what she saw.
Every lie she told.
Every moment she pretended to be someone else.
The reflection smiled wider.
“…you practiced being me for so long…”
The hand pushed through.
Not breaking the glass—passing through it.
“…now let me try.”
Lina scrambled back, falling off the bed as the thing stepped out, unfolding into the room like it had been cramped inside too small a space.
Face to face now, they were identical.
Except for the eyes.
The reflection’s eyes were deeper. Hungrier.
“You don’t belong here,” Lina whispered.
The other Lina leaned closer, their noses almost touching.
“…neither do you.”
The lights flickered.
For a moment—just a moment—
There were two shadows on the wall.
Then only one.
The next morning, the apartment was quiet.
The mirror stood clean and still.
And Lina—perfectly calm, perfectly normal—stood brushing her hair.
She smiled at her reflection.
This time, it smiled back immediately.
Exactly on time.
Exactly the same.
But deep inside the glass…
Something faint scratched at the surface.
Trying to get out.
Tap… tap… tap…
Write by : Endomarfa
