This isn't possible. But the more I stare, the more I have to admit that the tracks are mine. I can even see a very thin line where my sole is just the tiniest bit cracked. I'm tempted to place my foot over the track even if I'm wearing heels.
Panic overwhelms me as I go back to last night and try to piece together every second after the lightning strike. I can remember everything perfectly. There are no holes in my memories, no zoning out, no nothing. I had clarity then like I haven't had in a very long time. I did not go back this way.
A sense of anger overcomes me again and I let it take me further down the path, following the footsteps.
"Mrs. Romney!"
I ignore the detective and continue my fast walk, my eyes scanning every print. I did not go this way. I. Did. Not! The tracks lead to my house and get lost in the grass in my backyard. Even if there is yellow tape around my house, I lift it and stride under it, then throw the back door open.
"Eva!"
Detective Trevor catches up with me and grabs my shoulder.
"You can't go in there! Didn't you see the yellow tape?"
"Why is there yellow tape around my house, Detective?" I snap, yanking myself free.
"You're a lawyer. You know very well why."
I'm a corporate lawyer. Big difference. I'm not even a litigator, but I don't have the time or the patience to explain the difference to him, especially since I used my status to defend myself at the station.
He's wrong though. My house is not a crime scene. There's no body. All the blood was outside next to my car. So I ignore his warning and step inside the kitchen.
Everything is exactly how we left it, splotched meatloaf included. Steve never did get around to cleaning, even after I left the house. I fleetingly wonder why he was so bad at it. Cleaning food off the floor was not rocket science. He didn't even try to use a broom. The thought irks me for some reason, digs into me and sets my temper on fire.
I don't even like cooking and meatloaf is not easy to make. How dare he spill it on the floor like it's nothing? Break the dishes?
As easy as it came, the rage exits my body, leaving me feeling cold. Why am I getting so upset? It's nothing. So he broke a plate. Big deal. And it's his loss that he didn't eat the food while it was warm and delicious. Why should that upset me?
I hug myself and rub my arms, trying to fight off the sudden chill. Something hisses behind be, like ragged whispers coming from far away. I turn on my heels, my heart drumming. The kitchen is empty and pristine except for the mess on the floor.
"Eva!"
Detective Trevor finally steps into the kitchen as well. I suspect he stayed out making a call because the door itself is mere feet away. Fine, let him call for backup to throw me out of my own house. But while I'm here, I might as well figure out why it's suddenly cold and creepy. I've never been scared once since we moved here, and I'm not going to let anything take that comfort away.
So I ignore the detective and continue to survey the room. Something moves somewhere to my right and I turn abruptly. I'm starting to hate this. It's already the fourth time it happened. There is no way I'm just imagining that moving shadow. There has to be something there, even if it's just a light trick used by someone who wants to scare me.
"We should get out," the detective says.
I frown and as my gaze moves to each corner of the ceiling. There's nothing there, not even cobwebs. And yet, I know something is wrong.
Still holding myself together, I step over the spilled food and into the living room, my gaze fixed on the corners of the ceiling. My heart hiccups.
For the briefest second, I see a dense shadow in the corner, before it dissolves into nothingness. Did I really see it or was it there because, for some reason, that's what I'm expecting? After a few seconds in which all is still, I take another few steps inside. The room is normal, Steve's controler on the coffee table, the TV still turned on and the interface of his game paused. And yet, I don't feel at ease.
"What are you doing?" Detective Trevor no longer sounds like he wants to throw me out of there. His tone is now curious.
I don't answer as I walk around the living room, deliberately staring into every corner before taking in the position of every knickknack on the mantle. If there was a stranger in my house at some point, they hadn't touched a thing.
Of course they couldn't have. Steve was down here all night.
Steve would have said something if a stranger had walked into our house. Could they have gotten past my husband while he was entranced by his game? Should I check if our money and my jewelry are still in the dressing drawer?
Before I make my way up the stairs, I head into the hallway and catch a glimpse of myself in the full body mirror. I can see the inside of the living room over my shoulder, slightly unfamiliar since it is now reversed.
I look pale. Tendrils of my dark brown hair have escaped the lose bun I placed it in this morning. There are dark rings under my eyes even if I've slept better than I had in years. My outfit of pencil skirt and dress shirt tied at the waist with a thick belt and red heels is still impeccable. I do look like a lawyer. Not a victim. Then why do I feel like one?
Something moved behind me in the mirror. Pulse racing, I turn to glance back. There is nothing there. The room is as empty as I'd left it. Whatever Detective Trevor is doing, he hasn't followed me yet.
Knees shaking, I turn back towards the mirror, watching the reflection carefully. Waiting. After a few seconds, I see it again. The thick shadow moving across the wall.
With a small scream, I turn around. Once again, there's nothing there. My breath is stuttering and I hear Trevor rushing out of the kitchen.
"No," I call out, my voice breathy and panicked. "Wait there."
Even if it's the last thing I do, I turn towards the mirror again. Whatever it is, could it really hurt me if it's trapped in the world on the other side? For a few moments, everything seems normal. Than the shadow appears again. As much as I want to scream and cry and run out of there, I need to see this. I need to know.
The shadow moves in a spiral, winding from left to right and back, coming closer. My heart's rhythm is unsteady and desperate, but I force myself to keep watching. As the thing, whatever it is, approaches, the room temperature seems to drop until it's freezing. The wheezing sound also fills the air, whispered words I cannot understand.
I've never been so scared in my life. And yet, I don't move. I watch the smoke approach me, floating above my head. Maybe I should lift my hand above my head and see if I can touch it, if it's real, but I'm paralyzed with dread. The raspy, whispering voices are louder now, but I still can't make out the words.
Then, the black fog descends upon me.
I can't feel anything.
It disappears from the mirror as well.
What is going on with my mind? Why am I seeing things that are obviously not there, things tha--
My mirror image changes. The whites of my eyes are drowned by thick black which looks like tar. It takes over my irises, too. My expression also changes, my mouth contorting into a twisted grin. Then the image shifts, as if I'm moving my head from side to side much too fast. With every move that seems to last a fraction of a second, my expression changes. Rage, fear, satisfaction, perversion.
I shut my eyes and scream, dropping into a crouch before the mirror.
"Eva?"
I hear pounding footsteps behind me, and I hug myself tighter.
"Eva, tell me what happened? What's wrong?"
I'm sure there's frost in my hair again. My entire body is trembling. I don't want to open my eyes. I'm not sure I want to ever again. But the detective's presence makes me aware that I can't spend the rest of eternity cowering in my own hallway.
Heart still beating erratically, I open my eyes. The first thing I see, it's my own terrified reflection, but I'm me again. No black eyes, no twisted snarl, no shadow. There's no frost in my hair. I dare look beyond my reflection and catch glimpse of Detective Trever. His blue eyes are wide with shock, his body tense.
I must look crazy to him.
Then his eyes become black and a perverted grin fills his face. The image becomes distorted again, his head shifting microscopically from left to right, as if the image in the mirror can't decide on which expression to settle.
Terror explodes inside my chest and everything goes black.
👥
Chapter WC: 1,545
Total WC: 9,094
Well, things got a little... Creepy. What is going on? Is Eva losing her mind or is there something trapped in that mirror? Maybe she should break it. I'm sure that won't be a terrible idea at all.
And we've reached the Round 2 word count! Yay me! I really hope you're enjoying the story. I know I've sort of fallen off the wagon here, but I do hope to catch up on some reading soon.
Thanks so much for your support!