Liz sat in her room, her
eyes glued to the floor. The lights were
off, but the moonlight that was streaming through the balcony window was enough
to illuminate the room. She couldn’t
look up. She couldn’t bear to look up,
not again. She turned, pulling the
blanket off of her bed, and throwing it over the mirror that stood in front of
her.
It had started after she
had gotten back from that house. She had
gone upstairs to take a shower, and when she looked in the bathroom mirror, she
didn’t see herself.
She saw someone, but it
wasn’t her.
The face that had been
looking back at her was old and wrinkled, with dark circles under its eyes, and
a dry and cracked mouth. Gray hair hung
limply in thin strands around the withered face. When Liz had reached out to touch the mirror,
the old woman on the other side had done the same. When he hands had touched the glass, she did
not feel the cool, smooth texture of the mirror, but instead, she felt the
warmth of finger tips pressing against hers.
She had rushed out of the
bathroom, slamming the door shut. The
old woman had followed her though, now mimicking her stance in the mirror that
looked over the hotel bed. There was one
difference, though. The old woman was
smiling, showing off brown and rotted teeth.
Liz shook her head,
pushing the memory of the old woman from her mind.
“I’m losing my
mind.” She was mumbling to herself,
pacing back and forth.
She had been working on
Max’s show for far too long. It was
starting to get to her. Having his Demon
Slaying hacks by his side didn’t help matters.
They were getting him to believe that all the supernatural shit was
real. Now they were working their magic
on her.
They wanted her gone.
They knew that she wouldn’t leave willingly, so they thought they would scare
her off.
“Well, the jokes on
them!” Liz turned towards the mirror, yanking the blanket off. “I don’t scare easily.”
The old woman stood on
the other side of the glass, watching her, her body mirroring Liz’s.
It was just a gag. She kept reminding herself of that. It was just a gag. Something those Demon Slayer assholes had set
up. Liz took a step closer to the
mirror, and so did the old woman. Liz
raised her hand, reaching out towards the glass, and so did the old woman. Liz touched her fingers to the smooth
surface, and so did the old woman.
Except, the old woman’s fingers seemed to pass through the glass,
interlocking with Liz’s.
“What the…” Liz tried to
pull her hand back, but the old woman pulled harder, yanking Liz towards the
mirror.
She caught herself on the
dresser, doing her best to keep her balance as the old hag pulled her farther
into the mirror, farther past the glass, and into what ever lay on the other
side. Liz was screaming, and the old
woman’s face reflected her emotions, but the sound coming out was something
else. She was laughing.
“No!” Liz howled, using
all her force to pull free, and fell back against the bed as she broke her
connection to the old woman.
She didn’t look at the
dresser, instead running straight towards the door, and then out into the hall.
She screamed for someone to help her, but her hotel seemed to be deserted. Why hadn’t she forked over the extra money to
stay a The Hideaway? She had told herself it was on principle, but now
principle was about to get her killed.
She headed down towards
the bank of elevators at the far end of the hallway. She needed to get out of this place, away
from her room, from those mirrors. She
needed to get to Max. He would know what
to do, or at least, is friends would.
When she finally made it
to the elevator bank she was huffing.
She slammed the down button, then leaned back against the wall. She froze when she felt her back connect with
cold glass. She stepped forward, a chill
running down her spine, and her breath caught in her throat. She had forgotten that the wall across from
the elevators was a giant, floor to ceiling mirror.
She didn’t turn. The old woman never seemed to move unless Liz
had moved. Maybe her movements required
Liz. If she didn’t look at the mirror,
then the old woman couldn’t turn around and grab her.
There was a ding, and the
elevator slid open.
Liz screamed.
The back wall of the
elevator was a mirror, and standing there, in the same spot as Liz, was the old
woman.
Two withered arms sprang
out from behind Liz, wrapping around her waist, and yanking her back.
The glass swallowed Liz
up, the surface rippling and splashing as if it were a pool of water. Then, when the old woman had managed to pull
her through entirely, the glass settled, the stilled as if nothing had
happened.
The only remnant of Liz
or the old woman was the faint cackling sound that seemed to echo through the
nearly abandoned hallway.
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