The scream didn’t come from the mirror. It came from inside my head — sharp, raw, like it was tearing through my skull.
The woman’s face twisted in the reflection, her mouth wide with a sound that didn’t match. It wasn’t human. It was jagged, broken, like a recording played backward.
My smile wouldn’t drop. My face burned like my skin was stitched too tight.
“Help me!” she screamed — her voice finally clear, but muffled, like she was underwater. “He’s still in here!”
My throat tightened. I tried to move, to do anything — but my body wasn’t listening.
In the mirror, the stranger stepped forward, still wearing her face. His eyes weren’t right. Too black, too deep. He leaned his head to the side, the same tilt he always did.
Then he spoke with her voice.
“You wanted to wear me.”
The room flickered again, faster now. The walls rippled like heat waves. My reflection didn’t move anymore — but the mirror wasn’t still. It swayed, like it wasn’t glass at all but something thinner.
Something alive.
My stomach twisted as I watched my reflection. It blinked. But I didn’t.
Then it smiled wider.
“Come closer.”
I didn’t want to. My legs moved anyway.
The woman’s face in the mirror twisted, her eyes filling with panic. She slammed her palms against the other side of the glass.
“Don’t let him out!”
My hand reached for the mirror. Not because I wanted it to. Because he wanted it to.
The stranger grinned wider — and this time, I saw something else behind him.
The Stranger Who Wore My Face 18