It started the day I turned 18. A seemingly normal birthday—cake, a few friends, and my mom’s signature “you’re not a kid anymore” speech. But something strange happened that night. As I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, wiping off the makeup from the party, I noticed something odd. My reflection… it wasn’t quite right.
At first, I shrugged it off. Maybe the lighting was weird, maybe I was just tired. But every night after that, I saw her—my reflection—but she was different. The girl in the mirror started moving before I did, her eyes staring directly at me, cold and full of malice. Her expression twisted into a sneer. And then, she spoke.
“I hate you.”
My heart pounded in my chest. I backed away from the mirror, but her voice followed. “You took my life,” she hissed. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I didn’t know what she meant, but I was terrified. Every night, she returned, growing more aggressive. She began to mimic me, but in the worst possible way. When I smiled, she laughed mockingly. When I cried, she grinned with sinister delight.
I tried everything—covering mirrors, breaking them, avoiding them altogether—but nothing worked. I could feel her presence even when I wasn’t looking. She wasn’t just in the mirror anymore. She was in my mind.
One night, desperate to understand what was happening, I confronted her.
“Who are you?” I demanded, standing in front of the mirror, trembling.
She grinned, her teeth sharper than they should be, her eyes darker. “I am the real you,” she whispered. “The one that was never born.”
My knees buckled as the weight of her words sank in. “What do you mean?”
“You were never supposed to exist,” she said, her voice full of hatred. “I was. But you… you stole that from me. And now, I’m taking it back.”
Suddenly, her hand reached through the mirror, cold fingers wrapping around my wrist, pulling me closer. My reflection blurred as she began to drag me into her world. I screamed, fighting her, but her strength was overwhelming.
The last thing I saw before everything went black was her face—my face—smiling victoriously as she stepped out of the mirror, leaving me trapped in the dark, cold glass.
Now, I watch her live my life. She walks through my world, wearing my face, fooling everyone. And me? I am nothing more than a reflection, banging on the other side of the mirror, forever unseen, forever unheard.
And she still hates me.