The Mirror's Edge

2) The Shadow's Grip

The coldness lingered, seeping into Sophie's shoulder like an unshakable weight. Her hand trembled as she stared at it, her pulse thrumming violently in her ears. The air around her felt heavy, charged with an unseen energy that made her skin prickle.

The shards of the shattered mirror reflected fragments of her face—distorted, wrong. Her reflection seemed almost alien, her blue eyes wide with terror, her breath fogging in the unnaturally cold air. Every instinct screamed for her to move, but she couldn't.

And then the air shifted.

Behind her, the weight of a presence pressed down, tangible and suffocating. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She didn't need to turn around to know he was there—she could feel him, towering and unrelenting. Her muscles tensed as his shadow stretched across the floor in front of her, long and unnatural, like it wasn't bound by the same laws as everything else.

"Sophie," a deep, smooth voice said—low and deliberate, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her name on his tongue felt both intimate and invasive, as though he'd known her for years but had no right to say it. Slowly, as if caught in a trance, she turned her head.

He was closer now, emerging from the darkness like he was born of it. Tall, impossibly so, his silhouette was sharp and commanding, the edges of him blurring into the shadows. His face remained hidden, but the sheer force of his presence made her knees weak. The air crackled between them, a static tension that made it hard to breathe.

Sophie tried to speak, but her voice faltered. The words were lodged in her throat, blocked by a fear so visceral it rooted her in place.

He stepped closer, the faint sound of his shoes against the floorboards echoing in the stillness. Sophie's heart hammered as his hand reached out, slow and deliberate, until his fingers curled around her arm.

The grip wasn't gentle this time. It was strong—unyielding. Cold seeped through her skin where he touched her, burning like frostbite. Sophie's breath hitched, her eyes widening as pain flared up her arm. She gasped, her legs giving way, but he held her upright with an ease that was as effortless as it was terrifying.

"You shouldn't have looked," he murmured, his voice a whisper so close to her ear it felt like it was coming from inside her head.

Sophie tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh. The pain was sharp, sending bolts of heat and ice through her veins. She gasped, finally managing a scream, but it was cut short as her throat constricted, her body refusing to obey.

She stared at his face—or the lack of it. Shadows swirled where his features should have been, teasing the outline of a jaw, a smirk, but never revealing anything concrete. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and yet there was something about him—something magnetic—that she couldn't ignore. The darkness seemed to pulse around him, a living thing that bent to his will.

His grip tightened again, and Sophie whimpered as tears blurred her vision. "Let... me... go..." she managed to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't respond, but the edges of his shadow seemed to ripple, as if in satisfaction. The pressure on her arm grew unbearable, and she gasped as a sudden wave of heat radiated from his touch.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the front door creaked open.

"Sophie?" Lily's bright, sing-song voice pierced the oppressive silence like a knife.

The figure vanished. Sophie stumbled forward, the absence of his grip leaving her unbalanced. She clutched her arm, gasping for air as the warmth of the house returned. The hallway was empty, the shadows receding into their usual corners as if nothing had happened.

But it had. She could feel the lingering ache where he'd grabbed her, and when she glanced down, her breath caught in her throat. A faint mark had been left behind, like an intricate symbol burned into her skin. It pulsed faintly, as though it were alive, and her stomach twisted with nausea.

"Sophie? Hellooooo?" Lily's voice drew closer, accompanied by the rhythmic clunk of her boots against the floor. "Why is it so dark in here? Are you filming a haunted house documentary or something?"

Sophie spun toward her friend's voice, her body trembling. Lily appeared in the doorway, a bundle of chaotic, mismatched energy. Her fiery red curls were tied back in two loose braids, and her oversized sweater hung off one shoulder, revealing a stack of colorful, mismatched necklaces. She grinned, the usual sparkle in her green eyes only growing brighter as she waved a bag of snacks like a trophy.

Lily froze when her gaze landed on Sophie. Her playful smile faded. "Whoa. Dude, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sophie opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Her mind raced, trying to process the impossible. She glanced back at the floor where the shards of glass glinted in the faint light. The mark on her arm burned faintly beneath her sleeve.

"Soph?" Lily's tone softened as she stepped closer, concern replacing her usual teasing. "You're freaking me out. What happened?"

"I..." Sophie faltered, her voice barely audible. "It's nothing. Just... I thought I saw something."

Lily raised an eyebrow, her curiosity clearly piqued. "Uh-huh. And by 'something,' do you mean a ghost? A demon? An interdimensional monster? Because honestly, I'd believe all of the above at this point."

"Nothing like that," Sophie said quickly, her voice sharper than she intended. She tried to force a smile, but it felt wrong, strained. "It's fine. I'm fine."

Lily's eyes narrowed, but her grin returned—mischievous, probing. "Okay, but if something jumps out at me, I'm officially not your ride-or-die anymore. I mean, I'll totally run away screaming, but I'll come back with sage or something. Deal?"

Sophie let out a shaky laugh, grateful for Lily's usual carefree charm cutting through the tension. "Deal."

"Good. Now let's eat before you fully lose it. I brought cheese, crackers, and those weird chocolate things you like." Lily turned toward the kitchen, her boots clomping with deliberate enthusiasm. "Also, if you're secretly hiding ghosts in here, I demand an exclusive interview for my non-existent paranormal blog."

Sophie followed her, the faint hum of Lily's energy easing the tightness in her chest. But as she stepped into the kitchen, the ache in her arm flared. She pulled back her sleeve, revealing the intricate, glowing mark left by the man's grip. It pulsed faintly, the lines swirling like they were alive.

Her stomach churned. She glanced toward the hallway one last time, half-expecting to see the figure lurking in the shadows. It was empty. But the air still felt heavy, like it was holding its breath, waiting.

And in the back of her mind, his voice echoed.

"Stop looking."

----

WELL, that escalated quickly. Mirrors shattering, mysterious marks, and shadowy strangers whispering creepy threats? Just your average Tuesday night, right? Sophie really can't catch a break—imagine just trying to make tea and ending up in a full-on horror movie.

And can we take a moment for Lily? The chaos goblin we all need in our lives. She's out here strolling into haunted houses like it's no big deal, armed with snacks and bad jokes. Honestly, if the apocalypse comes, I want her on my team. Sure, she'll probably try to interview the zombies, but at least we'll be well-fed.

Now, about Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Possibly-Demonic... what's his deal? Why is he all "Stop looking" and "Let me burn cryptic marks into your arm"? Does he have a skincare routine for that shadowy complexion? And, more importantly, is he single? (KIDDING. Mostly.)

Anyway, buckle up for Chapter 3, where things get even spookier, Sophie gets more questions than answers, and Lily probably says something wildly inappropriate at the worst possible time. Until then, maybe don't look too closely at your reflection. You know... just in case.

Yours in snacks and shivers,
Riles 💀✨ (CEO of bad decisions and spooky vibes)