"Some things wear your face to remind you they're coming."
---
Lena didn't go to school the next day.
She sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the broken frame of her mirror, now covered with a white sheet. It didn't help.
She could still feel it.
The her behind the glass.
The one with the smile that didn't reach the eyes.
The one who mouthed "soon."
It had been twenty-four hours. She hadn't slept. Not really. When she tried, she dreamt of mirrors. Of hundreds of her own faces crawling across the walls like spiders, whispering in her own voice, "Let me in."
And sometimes, she dreamt of someone else.
A boy with no face.
A voice that didn't sound human.
"You're more than a girl," it said in the dream. "You're a passage."
---
That evening, Lena found herself standing in front of the bathroom mirror.
Again.
Her feet had taken her there before her mind caught up.
She stood there for minutes.
She didn't blink.
Neither did the girl inside.
Until she did.
But Lena didn't.
The girl in the mirror blinked first.
And smirked.
Lena stumbled back.
And ran.
---
Aarav was waiting for her on the stairs.
"I thought you weren't talking to anyone," he said softly.
"I'm not," she snapped, brushing past him.
But he grabbed her wrist—not hard, just enough to stop her.
"Hey. Talk to me. Please."
She turned to him, eyes haunted. "You saw it, Aarav. You saw her."
"I did."
"Then why are you still here?"
He shrugged. "Because I'd rather be with the girl being haunted than the ones doing the haunting."
It broke something in her. She nearly collapsed against him, and for a moment, the world was quiet.
Until her phone buzzed.
She looked at it.
And froze.
The screen showed a photo.
Taken just now.
From inside her room.
A photo of her and Aarav—him holding her, her face buried in his shoulder.
The sender was blank.
There was no number.
Just a message:
"You look better in my arms."
---
The next few days blurred into each other.
Weird things began to happen.
She lost time.
She'd black out and wake up somewhere else. In the library stairwell. In the girl's washroom. Once on the school terrace.
Once in Aarav's backyard.
He had been terrified.
"You were just there," he told her. "And your eyes were… vacant. You said you were me."
She didn't remember any of it.
Her friends started to avoid her.
Teachers looked confused when she entered class.
"Didn't you already hand in your project yesterday?" one asked.
But she hadn't.
Even her mother started acting strangely, locking her room at night, whispering on phone calls when she thought Lena was asleep.
And always, always, that mirror-laugh echoing in her head.
---
One night, Lena looked through her sketchbook.
One page was different.
Drawn in blood-red pencil she didn't own.
A girl tied in chains, her face covered, mirrors floating behind her.
Beneath it, in cursive:
"The real one always suffers."
---
The next morning, she found a note in her locker.
Folded perfectly.
No name.
Inside:
"Meet me at the train station. 11 PM. Come alone. If you want the truth."
---
That night, Lena stood at the dimly-lit station, jacket pulled tight around her. The platform was empty.
Except for a boy.
He stood still, staring at her as if waiting all his life.
Tall.
Pale.
Eyes black like wells.
She approached cautiously.
"You sent the note?"
He nodded.
"Who are you?"
He tilted his head. "I'm the one who saw you before the mirror did."
"What does that mean?"
He stepped closer. She wanted to step back—but couldn't.
"Every power like yours... comes with a price. You think this is about visibility and disappearance? No. It's about invasion."
Her breath hitched. "Invasion?"
"There's another world. Reflected in glass. It mimics ours. But it wants out. And it needs a door."
"Why me?" she whispered.
"Because your gift opened the lock."
He leaned close, so close she could smell the cold off his breath.
"They call it the Bleeding. When the other you slips through. At first, it's small. Glitches. Smiles. Blackouts. But soon… the two of you switch."
Lena trembled. "Switch?"
"Yes." He stepped back, expression unreadable. "You're not always Lena anymore. Sometimes, she wears your face. Walks your halls. Kisses your boy."
Lena's stomach twisted. "What?"
"She's already tried," he whispered. "Aarav doesn't know. But she touched his hand yesterday. It wasn't you."
"No—" Lena backed away, heart racing.
He held out something.
A mirror shard.
"Take this. Keep it on you. It will reflect only her. Not you."
She hesitated.
But took it.
As soon as her fingers closed over it—she screamed.
Visions hit her.
A hallway flooded with blood.
A girl dragging someone down a corridor by their hair—laughing.
Her own voice, whispering: "I'm finally free."
She dropped the shard.
It clattered to the floor.
But when she looked back up—
The boy was gone.
Vanished.
Like he'd never been there.
Just her and the shard.
And her reflection staring up at her.
Smiling.
---