LENORE
16 YEARS OLD
Iwoke up in a bed that wasn’t mine. White cotton sheets were wrapped around my skin, damp with sweat. I wore the old white dress my mom had sewn for me. The dress had hand-stitched lace at the collar, threadbare at the seams. The same dress she made for my sixteenth birthday, and last night, I turned sixteen. But she wasn’t here, and this wasn’t the room I fell asleep in.
I looked around, my eyes searching for something familiar, but everything was off. I pinched the soft skin on my forearm, hard enough to leave a mark. The pain twisted in my gut. This wasn’t a dream.
On the wall, the clock ticked 3:18 a.m.
It wasalways3:18 a.m.
I turned my head toward the corner, and the green wallpaper with faded white roses began to peel upward, curling like someone was stripping it back. But there were no hands. No one there.
And as I blinked, the wall started to bleed. A single line of blood ran down the wall like a tear, just before the hum began. Whispers floated toward me. And I stood frozen with my mouth open as I started to scream.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’tlook away. My body felt pinned like someone was holding me, and in the corner, a mirror called out to me.
I blinked.
A woman sat on the bed behind me. She was upright, and her face was soaked in blood.
I blinked again.
She moved.
And it wasn’t my face staring back. It was hers now.
I blinked again.
The mirror no longer showed the room; now it showed the hallway on the second floor. The same green carpet, the same wooden floor. And there, stamped across the carpet, were wet footprints. Fresh. Leading towardme.
And near the window, staring at me, was a woman in a long white dress.
“Mom?”
She held the gold medallion she wanted to give me, but never got the chance.I got up fast, my heart beating so fast. I rushed to the mirror, hand outstretched. Ineededto reach her. To touch her, even once.
I banged on it, over and over, my palms smearing sweat across the surface. “Mom!” I cried. But she only watched me with her empty eyes, with her lips moving without sound.
I heard it.
A bang at the door. Quiet at first. Then louder.Faster.
And I smelled it.
Damp earth. Like something had clawed its way out of a shallow grave and was standing just outside.
I could hear the footsteps creaking.
The doorknob twisted, and the door opened.
He stepped inside.
My stepbrother.
I screamed.
He slammed the door behind him, tossed a dirt-covered shovel onto the bed, and in two strides was at my side. His hand clamped over my mouth.
