I stared at the large two story house my parents had just bought. The windows all seemed to be tinted with a color I don't quite know how to describe. The outside walls were a shade of grey and the door seemed to be a reddish brown through my eyes, though everyone else saw it as a light brown.

My parents had me taken in to the eye doctor to see if I was color-blind but I came out with a perfect score. Nothing wrong with my eyes. The sky seemed to be darker whenever I was near that house. But I didn't say anything about that. As we unpacked our stuff into the house, my parents asked me to take some boxes upstairs.

So I grabbed a box and started walking into the house. The feeling of being watched came over me, and the uneasiness of being in a graveyard shuddered through my skin. I tried to hurry back downstairs after I practically dropped the box and bolted. As I rushed to the stairs to go back down, something moved at the corner of my eye and seemed to vanish when it reached a door on the end of the hall. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared with a feeling of terror in my eyes as I watched the door. I waited and kept watching the door, but nothing happened. I almost fell down the stairs as I went down. I couldn't stop thinking about that "thing" that moved so fast through the hall.

Now it was time to choose who got what room in the house. My parents got the master bedroom on the bottom floor, my little sister got the room next to them. Two of the rooms upstairs were turned into a home gym and an office for my father. My brother and I had to share a room. There was only one room left. The room down the hall. After we had finished unpacking all of our things in the room, something strange happened. The lights flickered for a second and I felt a chill running up my spine. I looked at the window to find that, to my displeasure, it was closed. I asked my brother: "Hey, did you feel that?"

He replied: "Feel what?"

After telling him about the flickering lights and the unpleasant feeling, he told me he didn't feel anything and nothing happened with the lights. I thought for a second: How couldn't he have noticed the lights? He's normally the one to get cold easily. I didn't think much of it as I heard my mother yell it was dinner time. Finally something to take my mind off things.

As we were eating, I got the feeling of being watched again. Like someone was looking right at my back. I looked behind me. Nothing. I asked my parents and my brother if they felt anything strange. They said no, at exactly the same time. They went back to eating, with expressionless faces. I stood up and slowly backed away. "I'm just... gonna go to the bathroom... I'll be right back." My sister stared at me, her eyes seemed different. They were not the happy eyes they used to be, they looked more angry. They've never looked like that, I thought. What's happening to my five year old sister?

As I went upstairs to our bathroom, I got the feeling of being watched again. I closed the door and sat on the toilet seat, trying to make sense of what might be happening. There was a mirror in front of the toilet where I was sitting. My eyes were drawn to my reflection in it, but there was something off: in my reflection, the walls seemed darker, as if they were shadowed by something. I looked deeper into the mirror, but the closer I got to it, the darker the walls became. Eventually I was standing in front of it, surrounded by what seemed to be a dark, colorless void. My reflection started moving, even though I was standing still.

The figure seemed to be reaching out to me. As I stood there, looking in horror, I felt my arm being lifted, as if the reflection was controlling it. The reflection reached into the darkness, I followed quickly, it looked to be clutching something. I felt my hands begin to grip on something, and I forced my head to see what it was. I looked at my hand to see it clutching my father's old shaving razor. The one with one blade and a handle. I stared in horror as the reflection pulled its hand back in front of it, but it had no knife in its hand, it was empty. It brought its hand to its stomach, as if it was going to push something through it, and to my horror my arms did the same, the tip of the razor pushed through my shirt.

Slowly, it began to pull inward. Cutting through my shirt as it began to force itself through, I closed my eyes in pain, clenching my teeth, tears running from my eyes. But my eyes opened, seemingly by themselves as I saw my reflection now holding the knife in its hands. Still pushing it in. I watched in sheer terror as I see myself forcing the razor through my stomach, feeling every bit of pain and agony. I was coughing hard, feeling something running down from my mouth, and hearing what sounded like water dripping on the bathroom floor. I watched as my reflection continued to push the razor in until the handle was the only thing visible.

I couldn't stop. I couldn't leave. I couldn't bear to watch, but it forced me to. My reflection was expressionless, emotionless, as if it could feel neither pain nor agony. It began to pull the razor up, cutting through skin and organs. My arms soon followed. I tried to scream in pain, but the sound never came. I could feel the puddle of blood against my feet as it became sticky and wet.

I could feel every little bit of pain. I could see every bit of myself and I couldn't look away. I wanted to die, but I just didn't. I couldn't. The reflection was still alive and so was I. The demonic reflection of myself seemed to draw back the blood into its own body but my blood was still laying on the floor. The darkness slowly faded away, bringing back just the reflection of my normal self.

I collapsed.

All of a sudden I heard pounding on the door. Screams of "Let me in!" and "Are you OK?" filled my ears. My mind however, was filled with nothing but pain, all I could do was to lay there in my own blood. I was twitching like a madman as my vision went blurry. I looked back at the mirror. In splattered, streaked bloody letters it read the words:


I awoke with a shock and sat up rapidly. Everyone in class was staring at me with wide eyes, even the teacher. With a look of torment and terror in my eyes, they send me to the office. Again. Ever since I moved into that house. The nightmares still haunt me. I stay up at night. Watching. Waiting. Staring at that door. Waiting for what, you ask? For that dark figure to return.

I will show the world I'm not insane.