Julian's day came to a close in a haze of distant lectures and drifting thoughts. As he packed his things, the weight of the day pressed down on him, but it was the weight of something else—something far more pressing—that lingered. The clock seemed to tick louder now, each second drawing him closer to a decision he couldn't put off. Darren's disappearance had been a question mark, something vague that Julian could distract himself from. But now, it was more than just an unanswered question. It was a dark pull in his chest, an urgent whisper that demanded attention.
The time had come. He couldn't ignore it any longer. He had to confront the mystery of his friend's disappearance. The sense of dread was thick in the air, heavier than any lecture or test. With a final glance around the classroom, Julian slung his bag over his shoulder, steeling himself for what he would find. What had happened to Darren? And why did it feel like the answers were already slipping through his fingers, just out of reach
As Julian approached Darren's dorm, a cold unease settled in his chest. Imogen was nowhere to be seen. His eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, he wondered where she was. Then it hit him—she had classes later than his. She would be here soon enough.
He reached for the door handle, but the moment his hand touched it, he felt resistance. The handle was stuck, frozen in place as if unwilling to let him enter. Julian's grip tightened, and with a forceful turn, the knob creaked loudly, echoing through the stillness. The door groaned open, revealing a room swallowed by shadows.
The air felt thick, colder than it had any right to be. Dust layered his bed, untouched, as though it hadn't been disturbed in days. But no, Julian thought, his voice only disappeared last night. This wasn't right. The room felt wrong, like something was lingering just beyond the edges of his perception. The silence hung heavy in the air, suffocating, as though the room itself was holding its breath.
Julian stepped inside, the chill seeping into his bones. His phone's flashlight flickered to life as he scanned the room, its beam cutting through the darkness, searching for anything—any clue—that might explain what had happened. His eyes flicked over the familiar dorm room, but nothing seemed normal. The usual disarray of a student's life was absent. The bed, the desk, the shelves—everything felt... abandoned. As though the very presence of Darren had been erased from this space.
As Julian scanned the room, his attention was drawn to something that seemed out of place—what appeared to be a mirror, though he couldn't be sure. It was covered by a cloth, draped over it like a shroud, hiding whatever lay beneath.
A wave of unease swept over him as he approached, an unsettling sensation crawling up his spine. Standing before the veiled object, he could almost feel the weight of its presence, like it was watching him, waiting. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as a jolt of electricity shot through his nerves, making his hand tremble as he reached for the cloth.
He hesitated, the dread mounting in his chest, but with a deep breath, he pulled the cloth away. His heart pounded, expecting to find something—anything—horrible, something that would make sense of the chill creeping through the room.
But as the cloth fell to the floor, the mirror came into view. It reflected a young man staring back at him. His own reflection. Normal. Nothing was out of place. But the weight in his chest didn't lift. If anything, it deepened, the silent stare from his own image unnerving in a way he couldn't explain.
Julian blinked, trying to shake the unease that clung to him, but he couldn't find anything wrong. The reflection was just him. Nothing more, nothing less.
He turned away, intent on searching the rest of the room, but as he moved, he froze mid-step. His heart stuttered in his chest. The mirror—his reflection—had moved too. It had turned with him.
A sudden weight lifted off his shoulders, as if the pressure in the room had released. For a moment, he thought he had imagined it, thought it was just his mind playing tricks. He walked away, the feeling of unease lingering but manageable.
Then, without warning, a shiver crawled up his spine, icy and sharp. He froze. His thoughts whirled back to the mirror, the reflection that had turned when he had. How the hell did I see myself blink? The question gnawed at him, unanswered, but its presence was inescapable, lingering in the quiet of the room like a silent threat.
thought. The body remained still, but the head... the head had twisted a full 180 degrees, its gaze locking with Julian's through the glass.
A cold dread seeped into his bones, rooting him to the spot. The reflection—his reflection—was grinning, its lips curling into a smile far too wide, far too knowing. It wasn't the kind of smile born of relief or recognition. No, this one felt different, like the thing in the mirror was pleased, even happy, to have been discovered.
Julian's breath caught in his throat, his pulse thundering in his ears as he stared back at that twisted version of himself, unable to look away. The silence in the room stretched, suffocating, until suddenly...
The reflection blinked. But Julian didn't.