Nightfall.
The dormitory was silent. The kind of silence that pressed against my ears, making even my own breathing feel too loud.
I sat on my bed, gripping the edge of my blanket. The events of the past few days had tangled into a nightmarish loop in my head—John's eerie presence, the unsettling journal, the strange room with no doors.
And now, the mirror.
The mirror that reflected a version of me I did not recognize.
I swallowed hard, turning my gaze to it once more. My own reflection stared back at me, but something was off.
Was the room behind me… darker?
I stood up cautiously, stepping closer to the mirror. My reflection moved in sync, but the background did not. The walls on the other side of the glass were cracked, peeling, like they had been abandoned for years. My bed in the reflection was messy, the sheets stained and tattered.
This was not my dorm room.
It was something else.
I reached out, fingertips barely grazing the cold surface—
**C R A C K.**
A thin fracture split through the middle of the glass.
I stumbled backward, my heart pounding. The crack widened, spreading like veins across the surface.
Then—
A hand shot out from within the mirror.
I screamed.
The fingers wrapped around my wrist, ice-cold and unnaturally strong. I tried to yank myself free, but it pulled me closer, closer—
And then, the world flipped.
I fell.
Darkness swallowed me whole, and for a moment, I felt weightless. Cold air rushed past my skin as if I were sinking into a void.
Then—
I landed hard on the floor.
I gasped for air.
My hands scrambled against the ground—dusty, rough, unfamiliar. I pushed myself up, blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim surroundings.
This… this was the room from the mirror.
But now, I was inside it.
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.
I spun around. The mirror—where was the mirror?
There. On the wall.
But it wasn't a mirror anymore.
It was just… a window. A window into my dorm room, where I had just been.
And standing there, on the other side, was—
Me.
Or rather, the *other* me.
The version with pitch-black eyes and an unsettling smile.
I staggered backward. "What the hell—"
It—no, *he*—tilted his head, watching me like a predator amused by its prey.
Then he raised his hand.
And waved.
A chill ran down my spine.
I pounded my fists against the glass. "Let me out!"
The other me simply smiled. Then, he turned away and walked out of the dorm room.
Leaving me trapped inside this decayed version of reality.
My breath came in ragged gasps.
Think. I had to think.
I turned, scanning the room. The walls were covered in scratches—long, jagged marks, like someone had been clawing at them for years.
On the desk, there was a single object:
A journal.
I hesitated before reaching for it.
The cover was worn, the pages yellowed with age. My fingers trembled as I flipped it open.
Familiar handwriting greeted me.
John's handwriting.
"I have been here for so long."
*"No one remembers me."*
*"I thought I found a way out, but every time, I just end up back here."*
*"He takes my place."*
*"He becomes me."*
*"And I disappear."*
My blood ran cold.
I turned the page—
And my name was scrawled across it.
Over and over again.
As if someone had been trying desperately to hold onto my existence.
A sharp knock startled me.
I snapped my head toward the door.
Three slow, deliberate knocks.
**C o c k. C o c k. C o c k.**
I froze.
The door creaked open.
John stood there.
But this was not the John I knew.
His skin was even paler, almost translucent under the dim lighting. His eyes were sunken, dark hollows in his face. His lips stretched into that same eerie, unnatural smile.
"Welcome," he said softly.
I stumbled back. "What the hell is this place?"
He took a step forward. "Home."
"No." I shook my head. "This isn't real. I need to get out."
John chuckled. "That's what they all say."
I clenched my fists.
"No. This has happened before, hasn't it?" I said. "You… you were like me once. You got trapped here."
John's smile faltered.
I pressed on. "And now… I'm taking your place."
His expression darkened. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" I took a step closer. "That other version of me—he's out there now, isn't he?"
John's silence was all the confirmation I needed.
Panic surged through me.
I had to get back.
I turned, my eyes scanning the room, searching for anything—*anything*—that could help me escape.
John sighed. "You're wasting your time."
I ignored him, flipping through the journal again, desperate for answers.
Then I found it.
A single line, scribbled in messy handwriting:
*"The mirror is the key."*
I whirled around, staring at the glass window.
It had turned completely black.
Like a void.
Like a doorway.
John noticed my gaze and his eyes widened.
"No—"
I didn't wait.
I ran.
The moment I reached the mirror, I threw myself against it.
The glass rippled like liquid.
For a brief second, I felt myself being pulled, as if the world was stretching and folding around me—
And then—
I was back.
I tumbled onto my dorm room floor, gasping for breath.
The mirror stood before me, solid and ordinary once more.
I scrambled to my feet, heart hammering. My reflection was normal again. My own eyes, my own face.
But there was one last thing.
John's journal lay on my desk.
And when I picked it up—
It was empty.
---
END OF CHAPTER 6