Hope
I wrench my body backward, but it's like trying to escape quicksand. The hand claws deeper, its cold fingers curling around my ankle like steel traps.
With a surge of defiance, I yank a piece of jagged glass shard from the floor and slash at the hand. It recoils with a hiss, but the pull doesn't stop.
My heart pounds heavily and my breath is ragged. I've never witnessed something like this, and I sure as hell don't know what to do to save myself.
I grit my teeth and plant my palms on the floor, refusing to be dragged into whatever hell waits behind that mirror.
Then, with a brutal yank, everything goes dark.
Cold pressure surrounds me, squeezing tight like drowning in frozen ink. I'm falling, spinning through a void, and after a split second, I'm back in the bathroom and the mirrors are now very much intact.
There's no single trace of my blood on the floor like there was a few seconds ago. Plus, everywhere is suddenly oddly very quiet.
