I dropped the last box on the floor. The moving truck was gone now, unmoved boxes sitting in the garage. I had all my boxes in my new room on the second floor. I didn't want to move, and I want to go back to my old, small house.

I trotted down the stairs and stopped on the bottom one, watching my father and my mother hanging an unfamiliar mirror on the wall.

"When did we get that?" My voice came more rude than I would've liked it to.

"Logan," my father sighed, "try not to be such a grump with moving. Second of all, your mother and I think it's a lovely antique, and we bought it really cheap."

I rolled my eyes. Ugh, moving.

"Henry!" I called for my friend that was living with us now, due to his parents being in jail for something that I don't remember. Theft, maybe.

Henry walked over and stared at the mirror. "That thing is hideous," was his first comment.

"Agreed. We had a nice mirror, but this, this is trash."

"Oh, I forgot. Logan, did you take your medicine today?" Henry looked over at me.

"I guess not. I probably should, though." I walked to the kitchen, opening a box on the counter. I moved pill bottles, lotion containers, ointment tubes, until I found my pills. I took the bottle to Henry and showed them to him. "Is this mine?"

"It says Logan, so you're good."

I opened the bottle and downed two of the pills, water aiding. You see, if I don't take my medicine, I have these weird hallucinations. I ask somebody if they're mine all the time because one time in the past I had picked up the wrong bottle and my hallucination made it look like it was my name on the prescription label. That night, I had horrible stomach aches and headaches and all kinds of aches.

While mom and dad were unpacking food and drinks, Henry and I sat on the floor and watched some Netflix on my phone. Hours of Family Guy, Ghost Adventures, and some American Horror Story was all I needed.

Nighttime crept up before I would think it was four in the afternoon. We had just ordered a pizza as no one was up for cooking anything.

Beds were just mattresses and frames, so Henry and I slept on couches that were moved in just an hour or so ago.

The clock read two in the morning when I woke up. I rubbed my eyes and walked into the bathroom and did my business there, and I squinted in the mirror as I washed my hands. The towels on the rack behind me were swaying. I looked back, but they were still. In the mirror, they were not moving anymore.

Due to the quick panic, I downed more hallucination pills (I knew they were mine because I placed the bottle away from the others). After a few moments, I walked back into the bathroom and stared at the towels for a good ten minutes, only to see that they never moved.

With my peace of mind, I started walking back to my couch. I passed the ugly mirror in the hall, and I thought I saw something, so I turned towards it. A black figure, maybe six feet tall, stood behind me. It was all black and shaped like a person, but it seemed like it was made from an unstable shadow, as it had a small fire all across its skin, little things dancing along like the top of a fire. It had two perfect white circles for eyes. It placed a hand on my shoulder, but I felt nothing.

I blinked hard and it was gone.

I don't get it, my medicine should be working by now! Why am I still seeing things, especially something like that? Something that just couldn't be real...

I splashed cold water on my face, back in the bathroom. I stared in the mirror above the sink but nothing odd came from it. Back in the hallway, I stared into that mirror. The shadow man had come back.

Fury built inside me, and I punched the mirror. Broken glass scattered all around the floor with the exception of a few pieces lodged in my hand. Tears of anger and pain fled from my eyes as tears of blood trickled from my hand. Plucking out the pieces, I went back to the bathroom, applied medicine and bandages, and stared at the mirror with my eyes glued open.

I didn't just see that.

I looked out of the open bathroom door and saw the mirror, all the glass intact, back in its frame. I tried to make sense of everything as I slowly walked back to the mirror and looked into it. The black figure was there again, standing still behind me. It placed a hand back on my shoulder. This time, though, I felt it.

I was shoved into the wall, and I stumbled and fell. Standing back up, I turned around, and saw myself looking at the figure. I was cold and I could see my breath. I tried to reach out and hit it, but my raw fist hit a hard glass.

I was inside the mirror.

Screams escaped my mouth before I felt myself doing anything. I was hitting the glass, trying to escape, trying to alarm somebody. Nothing worked, I was stuck, and no one is coming to my rescue.

The thing started to move towards the living room.


Oh God, it was going to do something to Henry! I screamed and kicked and punched until my throat screeched in stinging pain and my fists and feet throbbed. All I heard was a loud noise. It sounded like someone getting their first breath of oxygen after nearly drowning and a lion's roar combined.

Silence fell, and I knew it was all over.

The figure came back and stood before me, still as could be. The glass in front of me started to crack. I didn't know what to think of this. Was I being freed?

The sounds of the breaking glass pierced my ears. My heart pounded and I took deep breaths, but I couldn't move.

Glass shattered. I wasn't in the mirror anymore. I was free, but not the same free I was thinking of.