Sharon stepped off the crumbling porch of the old mansion, her boots scraping against the weathered wood. The mansion loomed above her, its windows like empty eyes staring back. She'd inherited the place from a great-aunt she'd never met, along with a chunk of her family's mysterious past. Rumor had it the house held secrets some said terrible things had happened here.
The air clitched as she turned the key, like the house was waking up. Inside, dust swirled in lazy beams of light. Cobwebs clung to corners, and the scent of decay hung heavy. Sharon shivered despite the summer heat. She'd always been drawn to the strange, to things others avoided. Maybe that's why this house felt like home.
She wandered deeper, tracing patterns in the dust on furniture. Every step creaked, echoing through empty halls. At the top of the stairs, a hallway stretched like a throat. Doors waited, mouths locked shut. But one door stood ajar, whispering.
The bedroom inside was frozen in time. Makeup decayed on a vanity. A dress hung limp on a mannequin, lace turning to rags. And the mirror… it seemed to watch. Sharon felt a tug, like someone wanted her to look.
In the mirror's reflection, a girl stood behind her. Pale, with eyes like black holes.Sharon spun, but no one was there. Her heart pounded anyway. She leaned closer to the mirror, and the girl leaned too, her face stretching like ink in water.
Sharon jumbled backward, breath trapped. This was crazy. She'd gotten the house, that was all. It was messing with her head.
That night, she unpacked in the dusty bedroom. Shadows danced on walls. She pulled out an old photo she'd found in a drawer—a picture of her great-aunt Emilia, standing in this very room. Emilia smiled at the camera, eyes gleaming with secrets. Behind her, a boy loomed, his face blurred like he'd moved.
Sharon's phone buzzed, startling her. A text from an unknown number: _Welcome home_.
She dropped the phone. The mirror behind her rippled, like water disturbed. The girl with black eyes was back, closer now. Her mouth opened, whispering: _He's waiting_.
Sharon screamed. The lights flickered, died. In the dark, the whisper grew: _He's been waiting for you_.
Suddenly, the room flooded with light. The whisper stopped. The mirror was normal. Sharon was alone.
Or was she?
She backed away slowly, senses screaming. _Get out_, something inside her said. But her feet stayed rooted.
A knock echoed from downstairs—three slow thuds. Like someone knew she was here.
Sharon's phone buzzed again: _Don't be afraid_. The words appeared on screen, cold and calm. _I've been waiting_.
The knock came again. She edged toward the door, throat tight. Who—or what—was downstairs?
She crept down, dread pooling in her gut. The knocking stopped. The front door swung open, creaking like a scream.
A boy stood on the threshold. His eyes were black as night, and he smiled like he knew her.
"Hi, Sharon," he said, voice low. "I've been waiting."
The door slammed shut behind him. She tried to scream, but her voice was gone.
The boy stepped closer, shadows cloving to him. "You're just like her," he whispered. "So curious. So… breakable."
Sharon's heart pounded in her ears. _Run_, her mind screamed. But she couldn't move.
The boy leaned in, breath cold as the grave. "I'll show you what love is, Sharon."
His lips touched hers, and darkness swallowed her whole.