"What the—?!"
His right hand clawed at his left, trying to pull it off.
He rolled to the side, kicking his legs wildly.
"Stop—!" he croaked, barely able to speak.
His fingers finally pried his own hand loose, and he gasped for air, coughing hard as he fell off the bed and landed on the floor with a thud.
For a second, he just lay there, trembling. He looked at his left hand, which now hung limp and still by his side.
It wasn't moving anymore.
It looked normal.
But his throat burned, and there were red marks on his neck where it had grabbed him.
Tears prickled the corners of his eyes.
"What's happening to me…?"
Then he heard his own voice, but it was hoarse and demonic,
"I am taking over you."
Lin Zhihao was so scared that he moved away from his bed and turned to run. His eyes suddenly fell on the mirror, and what he saw made his hair stand.
In the mirror, he saw himself—but it wasn't really him.
