The Mirror's Secret

Humans...Monsters

The mirror stood tall against the wall, its cracked surface catching the dim glow of the evening light. Sophie Davis stared at her reflection, a sense of unease curling in her stomach.

"Why did you leave this to me, Grandma?" Sophie muttered, running her fingers over the tarnished silver frame. The intricate floral designs etched into the metal seemed to writhe under her touch, as if alive.

The apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional groan of old pipes. Sophie sighed and stepped back, her gaze lingering on the mirror. Her reflection stared back—except for one small detail.

Her reflection didn't move.

She froze, her breath caught in her throat.

"W-What the hell?" Sophie whispered, waving her hand in front of the glass. Her reflection stood stock-still, staring back at her with an expression she wasn't making.

The sound of faint laughter broke the silence. It was soft, like wind chimes in the breeze, but it sent a chill racing down her spine. Sophie stumbled backward, her heart pounding.

"Get a grip, Sophie," she said to herself, shaking her head. "You're just tired. It's been a rough week."

But as she turned away, the laughter grew louder.

The days that followed were no better. Sophie couldn't shake the feeling that the mirror was watching her. Shadows seemed to flicker in its depths, and the whispers—low and unintelligible—grew more frequent.

One night, as she lay in bed staring at the cracked ceiling, she heard it.

"Sophie..."

Her eyes snapped open. The voice wasn't in her head. It was coming from the mirror.

She bolted upright, staring at the gleaming surface across the room. The reflection was wrong again. Her reflection sat with a serene smile, head tilted slightly as if waiting for her to speak.

"Who... Who are you?" Sophie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The reflection's lips moved. "Mira."

Sophie's heart felt like it would leap out of her chest. "What do you want?"

"To talk," Mira said, her voice soft yet haunting. "You're lonely, aren't you, Sophie? I can help."

Sophie shook her head, her hands gripping the edge of her bed. "Help with what? I don't even know you!"

Mira's expression didn't change, but her eyes seemed to glint with amusement. "Oh, Sophie. You know me better than you think. After all, I am you."

For the next few days, Sophie avoided the mirror, draping it with an old bedsheet. But the voice persisted. Mira would call to her at night, teasing, pleading, sometimes mocking.

"You're just like me," Mira whispered one evening. "You hide it well, but you've hurt people. Pushed them away. Haven't you?"

"Shut up!" Sophie snapped, tears brimming in her eyes.

But Mira's voice didn't falter. "Your grandmother knew the truth. That's why she gave me to you. She wanted you to see it for yourself."

Sophie clenched her fists. "See what?"

"That you're no better than me."