You wake up, but the room is wrong. The ceiling too low. The shadows with edges.

Your hands—
not yours.
Fingers longer.
Nails black.

You try to scream.
No sound.
Just the wet click
of something tasting air.

The bed is warm.
Too warm.
Like someone was just here.
Breathing.
Waiting.

You sit up.
The mirror shows you—
but your eyes
are open
when yours
are closed.

It smiles.
Slow.
You don’t.

The sheets cling.
Heavy.
Like hands.

You pull them off.
Skin underneath—
not yours.
Pale.
Veined.
Marked
with words
you never wrote:

“Come back.”

The clock ticks backward.
The door opens
without a sound.

Something steps in.
Same height.
Same shape.
But the face—
yours.
Older.
Hungrier.

It lies down beside you.
Whispers your name
like it owns it.

You try to move.
Can’t.

It presses close.
Cold.
Familiar.

You feel it
slide inside your skin.
Not sex.
Worse.
Possession.

You come awake—
gasping,
heart racing—
alone.

But the sheets are warm
on both sides.

And in the mirror—
your eyes
are still open.
Smiling.
Waiting
for you
to fall asleep again.

Written By MCapture