The rain hadn't stopped. It had dulled to a steady patter, like the house was breathing. Each drop tapping against the windows like fingers eager to come inside.

Iris stood at the foot of the stairs, her heart thudding in her chest like a warning. The key she had found in her mother's old sewing drawer still weighed heavy in her pocket. Its looked rusted and aged, stained by secrets.

She hadn't meant to come back here. Something pulled her.

She'd been searching for old linens to replace the damp ones in her room, but the pull of that locked door at the hallway's end became too strong. It invited her. Like it had waited for her.

The door creaked open on reluctant hinges, releasing a breath of stale, cold air. Dust swirled in the light of her lantern.

The room was larger than she remembered. She stepped carefully across warped floor, her gaze moving over old trunks, covered furniture, and a rocking horse that stood eerily.

She walked out and dragged the mirror back to its place in that room.

Near to the old wall, framed in blackened wood carved with roses and twisted vines. A velvet cloth had once covered it, but now it lay crumpled at its base.

And the mirror...

It didn't reflect the room at all.

Instead, Iris saw a dimly lit old room with an identical mirror stained with blood and an axe with blood dripping from it beside the mirror. The air on her skin felt warmer, thicker, as if she were no longer in that room. She blinked and took a step back.

The image didn't waver.

"What the hell?" she whispered, her voice thin in the oppressive stillness.

Then came the whisper.

Faint, like a breath fogging up cold glass.

"I see you now."

Iris froze.

"No," she murmured, shaking her head, reaching to cover the mirror with the sheet again. Her fingers barely brushed the frame when the surface rippled like disturbed water.

Behind the glass, a figure stood.

Not Iris.

But she looked like her in a distorted way.

The woman mirrored her posture, but her eyes were too wide, her skin too pale. And she was smiling.

Iris stumbled back, crashing into a stack of boxes. The mirror returned to normal reflecting only her, pale and shaking.

Her phone had no signal. Of course it didn't. The house always swallowed it.

She grabbed the cloth and forced it over the mirror, her hands were trembling, her breaths became shallow.

She didn't want to look again.

That night, sleep did not come easily.

The storm grew violent, rattling the windows like someone clawing against glass. Iris locked her bedroom door. She checked it twice.

But still, in the lull between thunder and silence... she heard it.

The sound of the door downstairs opening.

And slow, deliberate footsteps outside her room.

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A/N

Hello dear spookies!!

Who do you think was outside when she's been home alone all this time? keep reading to find out.

check the picture of the mirror uploaded.....

Have a chill time reading : Reflections of her

with love,

EUNOIA

instagram : author_eunoia311