Elliot never liked mirrors. They unsettled him, like his reflection was watching instead of copying. As a child, he told his mother, "That boy in the mirror isn't me." She only laughed and ruffled his hair.
Now, at twenty-six, Elliot lived alone in a small apartment, avoiding mirrors as much as possible. The only one he owned was in the bathroom, nailed to the back of the door. He never looked at it longer than necessary—until the night it moved.
It was late, and he had just finished brushing his teeth when something flickered in the corner of his eye. His reflection stood there, still as always—except for its eyes. Too dark. Too deep.
Elliot hesitated, lifting his hand. The reflection copied him. He touched his face. So did it.
Everything was normal.
Except for the eyes.
A chill crawled up his spine, but he ignored it. He shut the light off and went to bed, dismissing it as exhaustion.
Then came the dreams.
A dark figure stood in his bathroom, whispering his name in a low, distorted voice. Elliot… He saw himself grinning in the mirror, but it wasn't his face—it was something else wearing it.
He woke up sweating. The bathroom door was open.
The next few nights, the dreams worsened. He heard whispers when he passed the mirror. Sometimes he caught movement that wasn't his own. Then, one night, he made a mistake.
He stood before the mirror and whispered, "Who are you?"
His reflection grinned.
Not a twitch. Not a smirk. A sudden, stretching grin, unnatural and wrong.
Elliot's breath hitched. He stumbled back, but the reflection stayed still, only watching. Then, slowly, it raised a hand and pressed it against the glass. A crack formed beneath its palm.
A voice whispered, soft and velvety, "Let me out."
Elliot ran.
He stayed at his best friend's place that night. Noah. The only person who had ever really understood him. The one person who had seen him at his worst and never left.
Noah let him in without question, taking one look at his pale face before pulling him inside.
"What's wrong?" Noah asked, concern deep in his voice.
Elliot hesitated. It sounded ridiculous. My reflection is trying to kill me.
Instead, he shook his head. "I just… didn't want to be alone."
Noah studied him, then nodded. "You're staying here, then." No argument. No questions. Just certainty. That was Noah.
They lay in the dark, side by side on Noah's bed, the warmth of his presence the only thing keeping Elliot grounded. Noah didn't push him for answers. He just stayed close, a steady presence.
"Whatever it is, you'll be okay," Noah murmured.
Elliot wanted to believe him.
But in the window across the room, his reflection was smiling.
Days passed. Elliot avoided mirrors at all costs. Noah noticed.
"You're acting weird," Noah said one evening. "You flinch at your own reflection. What's going on?"
Elliot hesitated, then finally whispered, "Something's wrong with my reflection."
Noah didn't laugh. He didn't tease. He just frowned, thoughtful.
"Then let's get rid of it."
They drove back to Elliot's apartment that night. Noah brought a hammer.
"If we break the mirror," Noah said, gripping Elliot's wrist, "it's over, right?"
Elliot wanted to believe that.
They stepped inside. The apartment was dark, silent.
Elliot hesitated before opening the bathroom door. The mirror was waiting. His reflection stood there—no, not his reflection. It wasn't copying him anymore.
It smiled.
"Hello, Elliot," it whispered.
Noah's grip on his wrist tightened. "What the hell—"
The lights flickered. The air turned ice-cold.
The reflection stepped forward—through the glass.
It was him, but not him. Taller. Eyes black as ink.
Noah yanked Elliot behind him. "Run."
But Elliot couldn't move. The reflection's gaze locked onto him, sharp and knowing.
"I've waited a long time," it murmured. "For you to notice me."
It reached out—toward Elliot.
Noah didn't hesitate. He swung the hammer.
Glass shattered. The room trembled. A scream—inhuman and furious—echoed through the apartment. Then silence.
Elliot's knees buckled. Noah caught him before he hit the ground.
"You're okay," Noah breathed. "You're okay."
Elliot clung to him, heart pounding against Noah's chest. "I—"
Noah pulled back just enough to cup his face, searching his eyes. "It's over."
Elliot wanted to believe that.
He really did.
But in Noah's dark pupils, something moved. And behind him, in the shattered remains of the mirror—
A grin.
Watching.
Waiting.