Sharon's scream died in the cold, damp air of the crypt. The boy's eyes gleamed as he leaned closer, the knife in his hand gliving like it was alive. She saw her reflection in the blade—a girl with black eyes, skin pale as marble.
"You're like me now," the boy whispered. "Mine."
He pressed the knife to her chest. It didn't hurt at first, just a coldness spreading like ink in water. Then the pain hit, and she was screaming again.
The crypt seemed to darken, shadows twisting like living things. The boy's face blurred, like he was melting into the night.
Sharon's vision narrowed to a pinprick. She felt herself slipping, falling into black.
***
She woke in a place without light. No sound, no touch. Just her mind, floating.
A voice came, distant. _Sharon..._
She tried to answer, but there was no voice.
_Find me..._
The darkness shifted, like water moving. A shape formed—a mirror, floating in black.
Sharon's reflection stared back, eyes brown. But the image rippled, like she'd thrown a stone.
The boy's face appeared behind hers. _I'm waiting_.
Sharon's mind screamed, but there was no sound.
***
She woke gasping, in a hospital. White walls, beeping machines. Her arm was bandaged, like she'd been cut.
A nurse smiled. "You're okay. You were found in the mansion."
Sharon's memories rushed back—the boy, the mirror, the knife. She looked at her hands, like they'd betrayed her.
The nurse frowned. "You need to rest."
Sharon nodded, but her mind was racing. The shadows in the room seemed to move, like they were watching.
She slept, but the dreams came—boy, mirror, knife.
***
She woke in the mansion's hall, mirror reflecting her face. Her eyes were black now, like the boy's.
He stood behind her, smiling. "You're like me now."
Sharon's voice was barely a whisper. "What have you done?"
The boy's eyes gleamed. "I showed you love."
The word _love_ felt like a lie. She remembered pain, not love.
The mirror rippled, like water disturbed. The boy's face appeared in the glass.
"You're trapped," he whispered. "In me."
Sharon's mind snapped. She lunged at the mirror, shards cutting her hands.
The boy's laughter echoed as she fell.
***
The pain was a loop—mansion, mirror, boy, knife. Each time, the pain was sharper. Each time, she was weaker.
The boy's voice came from everywhere. "You'll forget. You'll stay."
Sharon's memories blurred—Emilia, the ritual, the love, the pain. She didn't know what was real.
The loop tightened, like a noose.
***
In the mirror, she saw it—the symbol on her chest, carved like a brand.
_Mine_, the boy whispered.
Sharon's mind screamed. She was losing herself.
The mirror shattered.
***
She woke gasping, on the floor. The mansion was silent. The mirror lay broken, shards everywhere.
Sharon stumbled up, vision blurring. She had to get out.
The front door swung open, like she'd been expected.
She ran into night air, heart pounding. The boy stood on the lawn, smiling.
"You can't escape," he said.
Sharon's breath caught. "I broke the mirror."
He tilted his head. "You broke the glass. Not me."
The shadows around him seemed to move, like they were alive.
The boy reached for her. "Come back."
Sharon's vision went dark.