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“What the fuck,” I said, panting, trying to recover, “What the actual fuck.”
There was no reply.
Whether I was expecting one or not, nobody cared to explain to me what in the world I had just seen. That only made things worse. I was scared, sure, but now I had more questions than when I had first picked the mirror up. I couldn’t help but crawl over to the mirror again, watching it carefully, studying the glass for signs of movement behind me.
There was no movement, there were no shadows, and no monsters; there was only my frightened face.
As I picked the mirror up again, though, I could tell something had changed. The room felt colder now, and weirdly active, like there were more eyes on me than there had been a moment ago. There are worse monsters in this house… Had I just seen one of those monsters? Were these things lurking around me, waiting to jump out and frighten me?
I decided to use the mirror again—this time carefully, expecting the worst. Standing upright, I held the mirror in front of myself, and I spun around in a circle, examining the dark recesses behind me and all around me.
There were no jump scares this time, nothing that made me leap out of my own skin, but what I saw in the deepest parts of the room was worse. Way worse. Because what I saw was definition in those shadows, and I realized, they weren’t shadows at all.
They were figures.
I couldn’t see them with my naked eyes. Without the mirror, the shadows were just shadows. But with the mirror, I could see shapes, humanoid shapes. Heads, shoulders, arms, even legs. One such dark shape clung to one of the corners of the room, another seemed to be peeking around the side of the wardrobe in the back, while another still waited in the open doorway that led to the bathroom adjoining the bedroom.
I hadn’t realized until now, but I had been holding my breath. Exhaling, I shut the mirror and stuffed it into my pocket. “Well, I’m never sleeping in this room ever again,” I said to myself, “You can also keep the bathroom. I’m getting out of here.”
Screw this place.
I had to get out of here, and I had to do it now.
Determined, I rushed toward the open window that led out onto the courtyard. Looking down one final time, I couldn’t help but feel like the ground seemed a little further away now than it had looked this morning.
That was just the fear talking.
It had to be.
The building hadn’t just stretched, and the ground hadn’t fallen further away. I was spooked, that was all. Talking myself down helped. It allowed me to get a hold of my breathing and throw one of my legs over the window ledge. A moment later, I was outside, standing precariously on the lip of the building, overlooking the hedge below me.
I didn’t think I was going to get this far. I was convinced there was going to be a spell to keep me locked in my room; a forcefield, an alarm—something. I found no such resistance, which gave me hope the rest of my plan was doable.
The grounds were empty, even the gardener was gone. Carla had mentioned the family kept dogs, half-starved dogs, somewhere on the property, but they would need to know I was escaping to sick them on me. As long as I kept quiet and planned this right, they wouldn’t know I was gone until I was halfway to the city.
That was the plan, at least.
I scanned the ground underneath me again, checking to see if it looked further away now than it had looked a moment ago. It was still there, but the drop really did look higher than it had yesterday. Still, I thought I could make it. All I had to do was find the right angle and let myself gently drop off the edge of the building.
A noise somewhere in my bedroom startled me, causing me to tighten my grip around the window ledge to stop myself from falling forward. I dared turn around, to investigate the source of the sound, but my room looked quiet… and dark.
But far from empty.
They were watching me. I felt safer out here than I did in there, which was weird considering the drop I was about to have to make, but the feeling was there, and it was powerful. A total revulsion against the idea of going back in there.
.
Deciding to ignore the noise, I turned my attention again to the hedge underneath me. “Careful, Bee,” I said to myself. “Careful.”
I held myself firm against the window’s edge, using my arms to hold myself in place as I began to lower my legs. It was only a few feet. I could make it without horribly injuring myself. All I had to do was—there was a sharp hiss, like someone inhaling sharply right next to my ear, and then someone shoved me.
I saw myself overshoot the hedge and saw the gravel race toward me, fast. I screamed, I couldn’t help it. When I hit the ground, it was hard, and with my shoulder. I felt something break, or snap, or crack; a pain like white fire tearing through me instantly.
Somehow, I was still conscious.
Somehow, I hadn’t broken both of my legs.
But I had probably broken my arm, or at the very least dislocated my shoulder. I had never felt pain like this before in my entire life. I felt like all I could do was writhe around on the ground and grit my teeth, because the thought of screaming again… no, screaming was absolutely off the table.
