You’ve always had a fear of faces, but it wasn't until that night that things took a sinister turn. Scrolling through your front camera photos, clearing out the old to make space for the new, you stumbled across one that sent a chill down your spine. It was taken at an angle you didn't recognize. At first glance, your face seemed fine, but then you spotted it—your left eye, wide and unblinking, staring straight at the camera while the rest of your face turned away, as if caught in a silent scream.
You blink, incredulous, and check the date. There’s no way you took this picture.
With a shaky hand, you delete it—an obvious glitch, right? Maybe your cat stepped on your phone. But then it happened again. The same photo. The same eye, watching you.
And it escalated from there.
The next image revealed your smile, but it was wrong—too wide, stretching unnaturally from one side of your face to the other. No filters were involved, just skin that looked almost too smooth, too plastic, like a doll trying desperately to imitate human emotion. You could almost hear a whisper echoing in your mind the longer you gazed at it.
As the hours passed, the photos change their tactics. They weren't just in your gallery anymore; they invaded your lock screen suggestions, creeping in at exactly 3:12 a.m. every night. You didn’t dare touch them.
In desperation, you taped over your front camera and factory reset your phone. For two days, silence reigned.
But then your ringtone broke the stillness. The number was familiar yet reversed, a mirror image of your own. You hesitated, but curiosity got the better of you. When you answered, your own voice—strained and shaky—whispered back, “I’m still stuck here. Why did you let her in?”
Swallowing hard, you turned to your mirror.
Your reflection grinned back at you.
But you weren't smiling.
