Liam stood frozen in the hallway. The apartment was silent, save for the faint hum of electricity in the walls. He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, or rather, what should have been his reflection.
But it wasn't.
The figure mimicked his posture, his expression—but the eyes were wrong. Too wide. Too dark. And it was smiling.
Liam didn't remember smiling.
He stepped back. The figure stayed still.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
The smile widened. Then the mirror shattered—without warning, without sound. It fell like ice to the floor. He staggered back, his hand bleeding from flying shards.
Behind the broken glass, the wall was smooth. No mirror. Just… drywall.
But he had seen it.
And he knew—whatever lived in this apartment knew him now, too.