Chapter 9 - The Double Upstairs
Without thinking, I sprinted toward the basement exit.
Rick stayed beside me while the realtor struggled to keep up.
The steel door stood open now.
Whoever had unlocked it was gone.
We raced through the corridor, climbed the hidden staircase beneath the kitchen cabinets, and burst into the house.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
The refrigerator hummed quietly.
The kitchen clock ticked.
Sunlight streamed through the windows.
For a brief second, I wondered if none of it had happened.
Then Rick bolted toward the bedroom.
I followed.
The bedroom door stood slightly open.
Inside...
Nobody.
The bed was perfectly made.
No signs of anyone sitting there.
Yet something felt wrong.
The air carried a faint smell of cigarette smoke.
I had never smoked.
The closet door slowly creaked open by itself.
Inside, every shirt hung exactly where I had left it.
Except one.
The gray sweatshirt I wore almost every weekend was missing.
I searched the laundry room.
Nothing.
The bathroom.
Nothing.
The missing sweatshirt had simply vanished.
The realtor stood silently near the dresser.
She pointed toward the mirror.
At first I saw only my reflection.
Then I noticed the fingerprint.
Someone had written a single word across the dusty corner of the mirror.
LOOK.
I leaned closer.
Behind the mirror glass appeared another room.
Not a reflection.
A completely different room.
Someone was standing there.
Watching me through the opposite side of the glass.
He wore my missing sweatshirt.
Our faces looked almost identical.
The stranger smiled.
Then he raised one finger to his lips.
Silence.
The mirror suddenly shattered outward.
Glass exploded across the bedroom floor.
When the dust settled...
The room behind the mirror no longer existed.
Only an ordinary wall remained.
Rick sniffed the broken glass.
He found fresh footprints leading into the hallway.
Bare footprints.
May you like
Still wet.
---
