The house was silent.
Too silent.
Not the normal kind of silence where you could hear the ticking of a clock or the distant barking of a dog. This silence felt heavy… like something was holding its breath.
Mira sat up slowly in her bed.
She didn't remember falling asleep.
Her room looked the same — pale blue walls, cracked ceiling, the small wooden desk near the window. But something felt wrong.
The window was open.
She always locked it before sleeping.
Cold air brushed against her face. The curtains moved gently… back and forth… back and forth…
As if someone had just passed through them.
Her heart started beating faster.
"Mom?" she called softly.
No answer.
She looked at the clock.
3:07 AM.
Again.
Every night for the past three days, she had woken up at exactly 3:07 AM.
And every night, something felt different.
She stepped out of bed.
The floor felt colder than usual.
Her reflection caught her attention.
The mirror.
It stood beside her cupboard.
She froze.
Her reflection wasn't moving.
Her body was breathing.
But the girl in the mirror… was completely still.
Mira's chest tightened.
Slowly… very slowly… the reflection smiled.
Not a normal smile.
It was too wide.
Too sharp.
Mira stumbled backward.
"That's not me," she whispered.
The reflection tilted its head.
Then it blinked.
But Mira hadn't blinked.
Her throat went dry.
Suddenly—
A knock.
From inside the mirror.
Three slow taps.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Mira's breath stopped.
The girl inside the mirror lifted her hand… and pressed it against the glass.
A dark crack spread from where her hand touched.
The glass began to shake.
Mira turned and ran out of her room.
The hallway was darker than usual.
The lights weren't working.
She tried to turn them on.
Nothing.
Her house felt unfamiliar.
Longer.
The corridor seemed stretched… like it had grown.
She could hear something behind her.
Soft footsteps.
Barefoot.
Dragging slowly.
She didn't turn around.
She didn't want to see it.
Her mother's room door was slightly open.
Light was coming from inside.
Relief flooded her chest.
She pushed the door open.
"Mom?"
Her voice echoed strangely.
The room was empty.
But the bed looked disturbed.
Like someone had been sitting there moments ago.
The wardrobe door creaked open by itself.
Mira stepped back.
A whisper came from inside.
"You woke up…"
Her blood ran cold.
The whisper wasn't from the wardrobe.
It was from behind her.
Right next to her ear.
She slowly turned her head.
No one.
But the air felt thick.
Heavy.
Her reflection appeared in the window glass.
But this time…
It wasn't just one reflection.
There were two.
One was her.
The other stood behind her.
Tall.
Dark.
Its face hidden in shadow.
It leaned closer to her reflection… and smiled.
Mira spun around.
Nothing was there.
Her breathing became fast and uneven.
"This isn't real," she whispered. "I'm dreaming."
But dreams don't hurt.
And she felt something grip her wrist.
Hard.
Invisible fingers wrapped around her arm.
She screamed.
The grip tightened.
She was pulled backward into the hallway.
The lights suddenly flickered on.
And for one second—
She saw it.
A girl.
Standing at the end of the corridor.
Long black hair covering her face.
Bare feet.
White nightdress.
But it was stained.
Dark patches.
Like ink.
Or something worse.
The girl lifted her head slowly.
Her eyes were pale.
Almost glowing.
"You weren't supposed to wake up," the girl said calmly.
Mira tried to move.
She couldn't.
Her body felt frozen.
The girl began walking toward her.
Each step echoed loudly.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
With every step, the house seemed to breathe.
Walls cracking softly.
Doors trembling.
Pictures falling.
The temperature dropped.
Mira's teeth started chattering.
"Who are you?" she managed to whisper.
The girl stopped right in front of her.
So close Mira could feel her cold breath.
"I'm the one who sleeps when you wake," she replied softly.
Suddenly—
Everything went black.
Mira gasped and opened her eyes.
Morning sunlight filled her room.
Birds chirped outside.
Her window was closed.
The mirror was normal.
No cracks.
No smiling reflection.
Her heart was racing.
"It was a dream," she whispered.
She looked at the clock.
8:32 AM.
Relief washed over her.
Until she noticed something.
Her wrist.
Finger-shaped bruises.
Dark.
Fresh.
And slowly forming…
A faint handprint.
On the inside of her mirror—
From the other side.