I woke up to the sound of whispering. At first, I thought it was a dream, but then I heard it again—soft, hurried murmurs coming from the hallway.
Rubbing my eyes, I sat up. The house was dark except for the faint glow of the nightlight outside my room. I could see the shadow of someone standing near my door.
“Mummy?” I called out, my voice small.
The figure stepped closer, and I sighed in relief as I recognized her—my mother, dressed in her usual nightgown. But something was wrong. Her face was hidden in the shadows, and when she spoke, her voice was cold, distant.
“I am not your Mummy.”
I blinked. My chest tightened with confusion. “What do you mean? Mummy, stop joking.”
She shook her head slowly, stepping into the dim light. My stomach churned. Her eyes—they weren’t the warm, brown eyes I knew. They were black, empty.
“I told you,” she whispered, “I am NOT your Mummy.”
I felt my body freeze. “Then… who are you?”
She tilted her head, a slow, unnatural movement. “Your Mummy is gone. She won’t be coming back.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “No! You’re lying! Where is she?”
She smiled—a wide, unnatural grin that stretched too far across her face. “She tried to hide you from me. But I found you, didn’t I?”
A cold hand reached out. I screamed, scrambling back onto my bed.
Suddenly, the lights flickered on.
“Sweetheart?” My real mother’s voice.
I turned, and there she was—standing in the doorway, looking worried. I whipped my head back toward the strange woman, but she was gone. Only the soft scent of something rotten lingered in the air.
My mother rushed to me, hugging me tightly. “It’s okay, I’m here. You were just having a bad dream.”
But I wasn’t so sure.
Because when I looked over her shoulder, I saw the bedroom mirror.
And in its reflection, the other woman was still there—grinning at me from the darkness.