Courtney stood by the door, her heart thumping in her chest as she listened to her friend Sara talk. The sound of Sara's laughter, low and sinister, sent chills down her spine. There was something wrong, something off about that laugh. It felt as if the very air around them was thickening. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound jolted Courtney from her thoughts—a rhythmic, unsettling noise coming from the other side of the room. It was as if someone were pacing back and forth, though she knew she and Sara were the only ones there. She hesitated, biting her lip, before finally reaching out and turning the doorknob, her curiosity overpowering her caution.

As she opened the door, a wave of cold air swept over her, bringing with it an otherworldly chill. There stood Sara, her back to Courtney, facing the mirror. The soft light of the room flickered, casting odd shadows against the walls, distorting the familiar into something uncanny.

“Are you okay?” Courtney asked.

Sara turned slightly, her lips curling into a half-smirk that seemed not quite human. “I’m okay,” she replied, her gaze transfixed on the mirror. “Look who climbed through the window.” She pointed at nothing as Courtney’s heart raced.

“Who? What are you talking about?” Courtney took a cautious step forward, her instincts screaming for her to run.

“Drake!” Sara exclaimed, a strange glee lacing her voice. “Tell her, Drake! No, wait, I’ll tell her. Drake was calling me a silly goose because, well…” Her smile grew wider, and she leaned closer to the mirror, almost whispering. “I thought I killed him, but guess what? He’s okay. Thank God!”

Courtney’s stomach dropped as she processed Sara's words. Killed? Drake? A name that sent waves of confusion and fear coursing through her. Sara, laughing as if it were a joke, speaking to a reflection that appeared entirely empty.

“Sara,” Courtney said, stepping closer, “This isn’t funny. You need to stop, Drake died months ago honey, he’s gone. You know that, She felt a cold sweat forming on her brow, her eyes darting between Sara and the mirror.

But Sara wasn’t listening; her gaze was locked on her own reflection. “He says he missed me,” she cooed, her voice dripping with a dark delight. “So sweet of him, don’t you think?