The Face Behind Mine

I open my eyes. The room is dark. Too dark. My heart slams. I hear breathing. Not mine. It stands behind me. Cold fingers brush my neck. I spin around. Nothing. Only shadows. But the air is heavy. Thicker. It is watching. It is hungry.

I whisper your name. The one I lost. The one buried six months ago. “Come back,” I begged. Something answered.

I walk to the mirror. My reflection stares back. Eyes too wide. Tears run down. But the reflection smiles. A slow, wet smile. Not mine. I step closer. Breath fogs the glass. Behind me, something moves. It wears your face. Your beautiful, rotten face. Skin peeling like wallpaper. Eyes black and endless. It leans in. Lips touch the glass. “I missed you,” it whispers. Broken glass in honey.

I scream. No sound. Throat full of ice. Every night it gets closer. The corner. The foot of the bed. Now, the mirror. Wearing me. Learning me.

I turn off lights. It turns them on. I lock every door. It unlocks them from inside. Last night, the kitchen. Knife in hand. Blood on the floor. Not mine. I don’t remember walking. I don’t remember smiling.

I’m losing myself. Small things first. My laugh. My words. My favorite song. It sings it better. Sweeter. Deadlier. I called mother yesterday. She said I sounded like you. She sounded scared. She hung up.

The thing is stronger. My eyes are changing. Darker. Hollow. When I cry, it laughs. When I pray, it recites my sins. In your voice.

I tried to break the glass. It wouldn’t shatter. It bled instead. Thick, warm blood. It spelled my name. Then yours. “Together forever.”

I feel it crawling. Worms made of memories. It digs through my mind. It twists every tender moment. Our first kiss becomes teeth. Our song becomes a dirge. I am so tired. So scared. But I can’t leave. Part of me still loves you. Even if you aren't you.

Tonight, the mirror. Candles burning low. I look into its eyes. My eyes. Its eyes. It raises a hand. I raise mine. Fingers touch through glass. Cold. So cold. It smiles again. Gentle. Almost loving. “Come home,” it says. “I’ve been so lonely.”

Tears fall from my real eyes. The reflection never cries. I lean forward. Forehead against glass. It feels like flesh. Soft. Rotting. Familiar. I close my eyes. I whisper unsaid words. “I love you.”

The mirror cracks. With teeth. It opens its mouth. Wide. Wider. Glass becomes lips. Darkness becomes throat. I fall forward. Into the mirror. Into you. Into it.

Finally together. I am sinking. Dissolving. Becoming the thing. From the other side, I watch the new me. It straightens my clothes. It smiles at the glass. It looks perfect. No fear. No tears. Just calm. Beautiful. Alive.

It waves at me. At what’s left. Trapped inside. Screaming without sound. Then it turns off the light. It walks away. Wearing my skin. Wearing my life. In the dark, I hear it. Laughing softly. Using my voice. “Goodnight, darling. Sweet dreams.”

I will never wake up.

And somewhere in the dark, I hear it laughing softly. Using my voice. Saying my words. “Goodnight, darling. Sweet dreams.” I will never wake up again.

But I am not gone. Not completely. I am still here. Trapped behind the glass. I watch it live my life. It meets my friends. It hugs my family. It smiles with my mouth. It tells them I am fine. They believe it. They love it.

No one notices the coldness in my eyes. No one sees the rot. Slowly spreading beneath the skin. Every night it returns to the mirror. It stares at me. It presses my face against the glass. It whispers. “You look so tired.” Then it laughs again. My laugh. My pain. My everything.

I scream but no one hears. The mirror grows thicker. My voice grows weaker. Soon there will be nothing left. Only it. Wearing me perfectly. Forever.