Lina's scream didn't last long.
It died in her throat—cut off by something she couldn't explain.
The mirror was normal again.
Her reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed, trembling… perfectly in sync.
Nothing moved.
Nothing smiled.
Nothing spoke.
"I'm imagining things…"
Her voice shook.
It had to be stress. The move. The new house. The silence.
It had to be.
Right?
Knock.
Lina flinched violently.
The sound came from the door this time.
"Lina? What's wrong?" her mother's voice called from outside.
Relief flooded through her.
"I—I'm fine!" she said quickly, though her voice betrayed her.
The door opened.
Her mother stepped in, frowning. "I heard you scream."
"It's nothing," Lina said, forcing a weak laugh. "Just a bad dream."
Her mother studied her for a moment… then sighed.
"You've always had an overactive imagination."
Lina didn't reply.
Because this time—
It didn't feel like imagination.
"Get some sleep," her mother said, turning to leave.
The door closed behind her.
Again—
On its own.
Silence returned.
But it wasn't empty.
It was listening.
Lina didn't sleep.
She couldn't.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that smile. That thing pretending to be her.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hours passed.
Or maybe minutes.
Time felt… wrong in this house.
Tap.
Lina's eyes snapped open.
This time, she didn't move.
Tap.
It came again.
From the window.
Slowly, she turned her head.
The curtains were still.
The glass was closed.
But something—
Was tapping from the outside.
Her heart pounded harder.
Second floor.
No balcony.
No tree.
Nothing should be there.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
"Stop…" she whispered.
But it didn't.
With shaking hands, Lina stood up.
Step by step, she moved toward the window.
Every instinct screamed at her to stop.
To run.
To hide.
But she didn't.
She grabbed the curtain.
Paused.
Then pulled it open.
Nothing.
Just darkness.
Lina let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
"See? Nothing there…"
Tap.
The sound came again.
Right behind her.
Lina froze.
Slowly—
Slowly—
She turned around.
The mirror.
Something was inside it again.
But this time—
It wasn't pretending to be her.
It was closer.
Too close.
Pressed against the inside of the glass.
Watching her.
Smiling.
And this time—
It said her name.
"Lina… open the door."
She didn't move.
Couldn't move.
Because deep down—
She knew.
If she listened…
If she obeyed…
The house wouldn't just watch anymore.
It would take her.