My reflection isn’t there.

But Katherine is.

She’s wearing her soaked nightgown and her head is inclined towards the floor. Her wet hair hangs down, obscuring her face.

The condensation on the lower half of the mirror is growing. I can see my breath in the air.

“Where is Caitlyn?” I ask.

There’s an excruciating silence.

Katherine doesn’t move.

Then, in the condensation, a line appears, drawn by a finger I can’t see, but can hear as it moves across the glass. The line become a letter, and then another letter, and another, written in a hand I’ve seen before on a whiteboard in a classroom.

The message becomes clear.

I start shaking my head and whimper, “No, no, no, no …”

My phone rings.

Shaking, I answer it.

“Hello?”

“Daniel? Hi. It’s Mildred. I’m sorry to call so late, but is Caitlyn with you? I heard the door slam and it woke me up. I went to check on Caitlyn but she’s not here. Please. Please tell me she’s with you.”

I can’t tell her what happened. I can’t tell her the truth.

“Yeah,” I stammer. “She’s here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She got a little homesick.” I pray the unsteadiness in my voice won’t give me away.

She blows a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“She … uh … Yeah. Sorry she worried you. I told her she shouldn’t do that, but she was really shaken up.” I keep my eyes on the mirror.

“It’s okay. I just wanted to know that she’s safe.”

“She’s fine. She’s getting into bed now.”

“Daniel, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she, uh, she startled me when she came home.” I hate lying to Mildred but I have to.

“Okay. Her stuff is still here, if you want to pick it up tomorrow.”

“I will. Thanks, Mildred. Again, I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. As long as she’s safe. Good night.”

“Good night.”

She hangs up.

I begin taking in rapid gulps of air. I stare at the answer to my question, written in the fading condensation in the mirror …

28

Morning sunlight streams through the living-room window as I lift my head out of my hands. From my spot on what’s left of the couch, I glance around the room.

The place looks like a bomb went off. The whole house looks like this.

After hanging up with Mildred, I continued staring at the mirror in disbelief. Was I losing my mind or was I dreaming? I needed proof that what just happened had really happened. I went to the bedroom. The gun was there, lying on the bed, exactly where I had left it. I went downstairs. The back door was open, as was the basement. I checked the call log on my phone. There it was. Mildred had called me.

Yes. This was happening.

Uncontrollable terror set in.