Chapter 2 Shadows in mirror

Chapter Two: Shadows in the Mirror

Alice had always believed that nightmares ended when one woke up. But as she stood frozen before the strange altar tucked behind Dr. Festus's house weeks later, she realized that some nightmares only begin after the truth is known.

The house was too quiet.

He had asked her to move in-temporarily, he said-so they could plan for the baby and "figure things out like a family." The words had felt like thorns in her chest. But after three strange visits to the hospital where she fainted without reason, and a near miscarriage that came out of nowhere, she had agreed.

Not out of trust.

Out of fear.

There was something about the man now-something dark beneath his perfect teeth and soft voice. When he touched her belly, her skin itched. When he looked into her eyes too long, her thoughts grew cloudy. She could no longer pray. She could no longer cry.

Every morning, she saw things in the mirror that vanished when she blinked. Hands behind her. Faces in the corner. Whispers that called her name.

And worst of all, she couldn't leave.

She tried once. Packed her bag early one Sunday morning and tiptoed toward the front door, but found herself collapsing before she could open it. Festus returned hours later to find her sprawled on the floor, half-conscious, her nose bleeding.

He didn't ask her what happened.

He just smiled and cleaned her up like a loving husband.

Then came the night of the full moon. She had been hearing drumming sounds in her dreams, and now she heard them awake. A soft rhythm from behind the house. Curiosity-or something stronger-pulled her from bed.

She walked barefoot into the backyard, guided by moonlight. The grass was damp. The air thick with something foul.

Behind the hibiscus fence, she found the shrine.

A small mud altar decorated with red cloth, broken mirrors, burnt feathers, and something that looked too much like dried human skin. A clay pot rested on a wooden stool, with her picture-her pregnancy scan photo-tied to it with red string.

Her scream died in her throat.

She didn't hear him come up behind her.

"You weren't supposed to see this yet," Festus said, his voice low.

She turned slowly, every muscle in her body tensed. His eyes no longer looked kind. They looked ancient.

"What is this? What have you done to me?" she asked, trembling.

"I married you, Alice. Our souls are bound now. You belong to me. Nothing will break that."

She stumbled backward. "This is not love. This is evil!"

He laughed. "Love is a lie. But power? Power is real. And with you, I gain both. Eight sons, Alice. That's what the priestess said. You'll give me eight. And when the last is born, the bond will break. Not before."

Alice's heart dropped. Eight?

She hadn't even recovered from the idea of one.

"You can't do this to me," she whispered.

"But I already have," he replied, his fingers brushing the clay pot with an eerie tenderness.

And just like that, her legs gave way again.

Darkness swallowed her.

And the drums, once distant, were now in her head.