Sunday night arrived with a strange quietness. The house, usually filled with the hum of distant conversations and the occasional rustling of papers, felt unusually still. Faith sat at her reading desk, flipping the last few pages of the book she had been engrossed in for the past hour. Though her fever had yet to fully subside, she felt significantly better than before. The dull ache in her head was manageable, and the dizziness that had plagued her earlier had waned, allowing her to focus on her reading without much discomfort.
Closing the book with a satisfied sigh, she reached for her chair, sliding it neatly under the desk. The movement, however, carried a little too much force, and the slight jolt sent her small cup of pens and pencils toppling over. The container hit the surface with a soft clatter, its contents spilling across the desk and cascading onto the floor.
She exhaled in mild frustration before bending down to gather them. As her fingers brushed against the cool, scattered pens, a sharp, sudden pain shot through her skull. She groaned, her body instinctively tensing as the headache intensified. For a moment, she remained still, letting the ache pass before carefully resuming her task. Once she placed the pens back into their container, she climbed onto her bed, letting her body sink into the soft embrace of her mattress.
The moment her head touched the pillow, another wave of pain crashed against her skull—heavier, more intense than before. A groan of frustration slipped past her lips as she buried her face into the pillow, hoping the soft fabric would somehow dull the sensation. But the throbbing refused to cease.
"Maybe if I sleep it off, it'll be gone by morning," she thought, her eyes squeezing shut.
Then, a realization struck her. She hadn't changed out of her clothes.
A long, heavy sigh escaped her as she forced herself to sit up. Dragging herself to her wardrobe, she grabbed a fresh towel and undressed, the cool air brushing against her warm skin. She stepped towards the bathroom, her body moving sluggishly. Her reflection in the large bathroom mirror caught her attention, and she stopped in front of it, her tired eyes examining her appearance.
Her dark hair was a tangled mess, strands sticking out in odd directions. Raising a hand, she scratched her scalp absentmindedly. "Should I tie it up?" she mumbled under her breath before reaching for the shower cap hanging nearby.
Then, she paused.
"No… a warm soak would be better."
Turning to the bathtub, she reached for the faucet and twisted it open. A steady stream of warm water gushed out, filling the tub as steam rose in curling tendrils. While she waited for it to fill, her gaze wandered back to the mirror. Her eyes landed on her toothbrush sitting in the holder. Figuring she might as well freshen up before her bath, she grabbed it and began brushing her teeth.
Her reflection mirrored her movements—at first.
Then, something changed.
Faith froze mid-brush, her eyes locking onto the mirror in growing horror.
Her reflection's skin was growing paler—almost ghostly white. The contrast was stark, the only remaining dark feature being her jet-black hair.
A cold chill ran down her spine as her breath hitched.
She wanted to move. She wanted to turn away. But she was paralyzed, transfixed by the impossible sight before her.
Then, black streaks of liquid began trailing down from her reflection's eyes—inky tears that dripped down her cheeks.
Faith's grip tightened around her toothbrush.
The reflection, her reflection, tilted its head slightly, a twisted grin curling on its lips. Then, in a voice that was disturbingly similar to hers, it whispered—
"Why are you crying?"
Faith's stomach lurched. Her entire body locked up, her heartbeat pounding violently in her ears.
Her hands trembled, the toothbrush slipping from her grasp, clattering against the sink. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. The room felt impossibly small, the air suffocating, her limbs frozen in sheer terror.
Suddenly, the sound of water overflowing from the bathtub snapped her back to reality. The harsh splashing pulled her attention away, and she turned her head toward the tub. Water spilled over the edges, soaking the pristine tiles beneath it.
In a panic, she rushed to the faucet, hastily turning it off. Her breathing was erratic, her mind still clouded with confusion.
"What was that? What did I just see?"
Slowly, her eyes darted back to the mirror.
Her reflection was… normal. Just her—pale from exhaustion but otherwise unchanged.
A shudder passed through her.
She clutched her chest, trying to steady her breaths. "I must be hallucinating," she whispered to herself. "It's just the fever… I'm just tired…"
She hesitated before stepping toward the sink again, reaching for her toothbrush with shaky fingers. As she rinsed her mouth, she avoided looking directly into the mirror, afraid that if she did, she'd see it again.
Still trembling, she turned back to the bathtub, dipping a cautious toe into the water. The warmth was soothing, almost comforting against her tense muscles. Slowly, she slid into the tub, allowing the heat to envelop her body. Her skin tingled as she submerged herself deeper, her mind still racing with fragmented thoughts.
"What did I see? Was it real?"
She glanced toward the mirror's direction, but her view was obscured by the fogged-up glass partition that divided the bathroom. The condensation blurred the reflection entirely, offering her a momentary sense of relief. She let out a long breath, closing her eyes as she sank deeper into the water, letting the warmth ease her rattled nerves.
Time passed without her noticing.
By the time she climbed out of the tub, her skin was flushed red from the prolonged heat. Wrapping herself in a towel, she hesitated before stepping toward the mirror once more. Her fingers twitched as she reached out, slowly wiping away a section of the fog.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Normal.
She let out a slow breath, forcing herself to relax. "Just my imagination," she reassured herself, though her heart still pounded.
Grabbing a comb, she ran it through her damp hair before switching on the hairdryer. The low hum of the machine filled the silence, grounding her back to reality.
But even as she worked through the tangles, the eerie image of her reflection's pale face, those black tears, and that sinister whisper refused to leave her mind.
Deep down, she knew.
That wasn't just a fever-induced hallucination.
Something was very, very wrong.