The Stranger Who Wore My Face 5

I didn’t turn around. I wanted to — every muscle in my body begged me to look — but something deep inside screamed louder: Don’t.

My phone buzzed again.

"Good choice."

My breathing was shallow, too loud in the silence. The air felt thick, like I was standing underwater. I stared ahead at the wall, trying to keep my mind from racing.

Then I noticed something.

The mirror on my dresser.

It wasn’t reflecting me.

It showed my room, empty. The bed, the window, the door… but no me.

Another buzz.

"Check the mirror. He’s waiting."

I didn’t want to. But my eyes moved on their own.

Slowly, I shifted my gaze to the mirror.

He was standing right behind me.

My face — but hollow, sunken, and grinning too wide. His eyes weren’t mine. They were too dark, too deep, like looking into a pit that never ended.

He tilted his head. So did I. But I didn’t move.

"Not yet," he whispered, though his mouth never moved.

My phone buzzed one more time.

"Soon."

The mirror cracked.


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