The night outside is cold, biting against my skin as soon as I step out of the apartment. The sharp air is a relief, but it doesn't erase the suffocating weight that presses on my chest. Max tugs at his leash beside me, his body still tense, his eyes darting nervously to the shadows on the street. I hold onto him like a lifeline, trying to convince myself that being outside will help—that it'll make everything feel normal again.

But nothing is normal. Not anymore.

I keep looking over my shoulder, my breath visible in the chilly air, expecting to see something—someone—following me. The feeling of being watched hasn't left me. It clings to me like a second skin, a presence hovering just behind me, always out of sight but never gone.

My fingers tighten around Max's leash as we walk, the city streets unusually quiet, deserted. It's almost midnight, and the usual hum of Portland is muted. Everything feels off, like the world outside has shifted slightly, just enough for me to notice but not enough for anyone else to care.

I glance up at the sky, trying to breathe, trying to pull my mind away from what's happening back in that apartment. But Tyler's words echo in my mind, louder and louder.

Don't trust me.

How could I not trust him?

He's Tyler! My Tyler!

The one person who made me feel whole. But the more I think about the letter, about the warning hidden in his words, the more I feel that something darker is lurking behind it. It's as if the Tyler I knew and the presence in the apartment aren't the same anymore. It feels like something else has slipped into our space—into the fragments of our life—and now it's using his voice, his face, his memories.

I stop walking, frozen by that thought.

Max whines, looking up at me, confused, but I can't move. My stomach twists, and a chill runs down my spine. What if it isn't Tyler? What if all these strange things—the knocks, the whispers, the letters—they're all something else, using Tyler's death to get to me?

I shake my head, trying to push the thought away. No. It can't be. It has to be Tyler. He's been reaching out to me. I've felt him.

But what if that's exactly what it wants me to think?

I kneel down, stroking Max's fur, grounding myself in the feel of something real, something living. He leans into me, and for a moment, I let the warmth of his body calm the rising panic in my chest.

The city is quiet, too quiet, and the apartment feels so far away now. Yet, even with the distance between me and that haunted space, I feel its hold on me, pulling me back. I can't escape the apartment. I can't escape Tyler.

I stand up, feeling the weight of exhaustion pull me down. My head is throbbing, and my body feels heavy, weighed down by the constant tension. I need to go back. I know I can't stay away. As terrifying as that place has become, it's still the last connection I have to Tyler. I can't let go. Not yet.

We walk slowly back to the apartment, every step bringing that same dread back into my chest, as if the closer I get, the tighter the grip around me becomes. When I finally reach the door, I hesitate.

My hand hovers over the handle, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. Max whines again, pawing at the floor, but I can't bring myself to open the door. The thought of stepping back inside, of feeling those walls close in around me—it's too much. My breath catches in my throat, the oppressive sense of being watched creeping up my spine again.

I have to go in. I don't have anywhere else to go. I turn the key in the lock and push the door open.

The apartment is silent. Dark. I can feel the chill in the air the moment I step inside, like a cold draft has settled over everything. Max is tense, his body stiff as he sniffs the air, his ears pinned back. I shut the door behind me, my pulse racing, every sense on high alert.

Something feels different.

The living room is the same as I left it—Tyler's things still scattered across the table, the candles burned down to nothing. But the air—it feels heavier now, like the apartment is holding its breath, waiting for me to make a move.

I move toward the hallway, every step slow and deliberate, my heart pounding in my chest. The shadows seem darker here, more alive. I can feel the presence again, that suffocating weight pressing down on me. I don't know what it is, but it's here. I can feel it watching me.

Max stops at the bedroom door, his body rigid, his eyes fixed on the shadows inside. I stop too, my hand reaching out for the light switch, but something makes me pause. My breath catches as I stare into the darkness of the room, my fingers hovering over the switch.

And then I hear it.

A soft creak.

Like someone shifting their weight.

My heart jumps into my throat, my entire body going cold. Max growls low in his throat, his eyes locked on the mirror at the far end of the room. I feel a rush of icy terror as I follow his gaze.

At first, I don't see it. Then—there, in the corner of the mirror—I see a figure. A shadow.

Tyler.

He's standing there, just out of the corner of my eye, his face pale, his expression unreadable. My breath catches, my hands shaking as I stare at him. But the moment I blink, the figure is gone. The mirror shows only my own reflection, wide-eyed and terrified, standing alone in the dark room.

I stagger back, my mind reeling, my pulse racing out of control. I know what I saw. I know it was him. But the mirror... it's just me now. There's no one else here.

I feel the ground beneath me shifting, the walls of the apartment closing in tighter, suffocating me. My mind is spinning, unraveling with every second that passes. I don't know what's real anymore.

"Tyler..." I mutter, my voice shaky, barely audible in the thick silence. "What do you want?"

There's no answer. Only the heavy weight of the silence pressing down on me, suffocating me.

I move toward the bed, my legs weak, my heart pounding so hard I can barely breathe. The mirror catches my eye again, and for a second, I'm too scared to look. But I force myself to.

And there—again—in the corner of the reflection, I see him. Just a shadow, barely visible, but unmistakably there. Watching me.

My blood turns to ice.

This time, I can't stop myself. I turn toward the mirror, fully expecting to see him standing behind me. And out of the blue, there's nothing. Just the empty room.

I stumble back, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. I feel like I'm losing my mind, slipping further and further into a nightmare I can't wake up from.

And then, I hear it.

A voice. Soft, barely audible, but so close it makes my skin crawl.

"Ettie..."

It's Tyler's voice. But it's wrong. Twisted. Hollow.

I freeze, my heart stopping in my chest. The room is dead silent, but the voice echoes in my head, filling the empty space around me.

"Help me..."

The sound is coming from the mirror.

I can't move. I can't breathe. The voice keeps repeating, over and over, growing louder, more insistent.

"Ettie... please..."

My body feels like it's been plunged into ice water, the fear so intense it paralyzes me. I know it's not really him. It can't be. But the voice... it sounds so much like him, so real, so desperate.

I back away from the mirror, my breath coming in shallow gasps, my pulse racing. Max is barking now, sharp and frantic, his growls filling the room. The voice stops suddenly, the silence crashing down like a wave. The air is thick, suffocating, and I feel a cold sweat break out across my skin. I don't know what's happening anymore. I don't know if I'm losing my mind, or if something far worse is taking hold of me.

But one thing is clear.

Whatever's in that mirror—it's not Tyler.