30/06/2025
Episode 3
My Roommate Breaks Every Mirror—Now I Know Why
That day, after she said those words—“That’s not me. That’s the one who died so I could live”—I felt like the air in our apartment changed. It got colder. Heavier. Like the walls themselves had started listening.
Ariel didn’t bring it up again. She hummed like nothing happened, cleaned up the broken mug, and went about her day. But I couldn’t. I kept looking at her like I was seeing her for the first time. Every movement, every smile, every silence felt… borrowed.
That night, I didn’t sleep.
I laid on my side, facing the wall, but my eyes stayed wide open. Around 3 a.m., I heard her get up from bed. Her steps were soft, slow, almost like she was sleepwalking. I turned just enough to see her silhouette glide across the room. She knelt by her suitcase, unzipped it gently, and pulled out the mirror again.
She placed it on the floor in front of her. Lit a small black candle. And began to chant.
It wasn’t a prayer. It was a summoning. The language was the same unrecognizable tongue, except this time, it sounded… urgent. And angry.
The mirror began to glow. Not like a reflection of light—but from inside. Blood-red ripples shimmered across the glass like it was alive. And then—she spoke. But it wasn’t her voice.
It was deeper. Two-toned. A harmony of pain and power.
She said: “You had your turn. Now let me breathe again.”
I gasped—and she heard it.
Ariel turned sharply toward me. Her eyes wide. But they weren’t her eyes. The whites had turned grey, almost silver, like fogged-over glass.
“You weren’t supposed to see this,” she said, in that doubled voice.
I tried to speak. My lips moved, but no sound came. My entire body locked in place. Not frozen by fear—frozen by something else.
A force.
She stood up and walked over to me. The candle still burned. The mirror still pulsed like a heartbeat.
“I didn’t choose this,” she whispered. “But she did. She let me in.”
Then… the other her blinked—and for a second, Ariel came back. Tears filled her eyes.
“Run,” she mouthed. “Please.”
I couldn’t. My body refused to move.
The entity smiled. Lifted the mirror. And just before she could press it to my face, the door burst open.
A man I’d never seen before stormed in, chanting loudly, holding a bowl of something that smelled like rust and ash. He threw the mixture at the mirror, and it let out a scream—yes, the mirror screamed—as Ariel collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
The man turned to me and said, “Next time she calls her reflection, don’t let her answer.”
I passed out.
When I woke up, Ariel was gone. Her bed was empty. Her clothes were still in the wardrobe. But the mirror? Shattered. Like it exploded from within.
I never saw her again.
But sometimes, at 3 a.m., my own mirror pulses red.
And I wonder… if she ever made it back. Or if someone else is watching me now.
The End.🙆🤦🥱