You noticed it by accident.

The security office was quiet—too quiet. The hum of the monitors and the faint flicker of camera feeds were the only sounds keeping you company during the late shift. You were heading down the hall when you heard voices. Not footsteps. Not a radio.

Voices.

You slowed, heart pounding, and peeked through the slightly open door of the staff bathroom. Inside, Vanessa stood in front of the mirror, hands gripping the sink so tightly her knuckles were white.

“You need to stop,” she hissed.

But her reflection… smiled.

“You’re the one who keeps hesitating,” the reflection replied. Same face. Same uniform. Different expression. Colder. Sharper.

Your breath caught. Vanessa shook her head, eyes wild. “I’m in control. I am.”

The reflection tilted its head. “You’re lying. You always do.”

Vanessa slammed her palm against the mirror. “Be quiet!”

The sound echoed through the room. You should’ve left. You knew you should’ve. But you didn’t. And that’s when Vanessa’s eyes flicked toward the door. Toward you.

The reflection vanished instantly—just glass and fluorescent light.

“You… weren’t supposed to see that,” Vanessa said quietly, turning around. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled.

“I—I heard voices,” you admitted. “Vanessa… who were you talking to?”

She stared at you for a long moment, weighing something heavy behind her eyes. Then she laughed softly—too softly. “Sometimes mirrors just… show things we don’t want to admit.”

From that night on, you noticed more. Vanessa avoiding reflective surfaces. Covering mirrors. Glancing at windows as if expecting someone else to look back. And sometimes—when she thought she was alone—you’d hear her whispering. Arguing. Begging.

One night, during a power outage, you found her sitting on the floor outside the bathroom, knees pulled to her chest.

“She won’t leave me alone,” Vanessa whispered when she saw you. “She says she’s helping. She says I’m nothing without her.”