I was halfway up the stairs when I heard my mother’s voice call, “Jonathan! Jonathan, wait for me!”

I turned back. But the voice had come from the creature. It was standing at the base of the stairs, leering up at me. A string of drool dangled from its pendulous lower lip.

I turned to run, and gasped. Above me, floating at the top of the stairs, was Mrs. Hubbard. A pale glow surrounded her translucent figure.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hubbard!” I cried. “I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t mean for you to die!”

“Don’t be foolish!” she snapped. “Listen to me, Jonathan. Remember what I told you. Mirrors always lie. Everything is backwards here. Now you have to want him more than he wants you.”

“What do you mean?”

But her image vanished, shimmering out of sight like a reflection in a pond when the water is disturbed.

A snarl from behind sent me bolting the rest of the way up the stairs.

You have to want him more than he wants you.

I stumbled along a hallway.

“Jonathan, you’re mine. Stop running.”

Stop running. That wouldn’t be good enough. I had to stop being afraid. The creature was feeding on my fear, growing stronger every moment.

You have to want him more than he wants you.

I stopped. Heart pounding, I turned to face the creature.

It paused, looking wary.

Summoning every ounce of courage I possessed, I spread my arms and whispered, “Come back.”

The creature’s eyes widened. It hissed in alarm.

I took a step toward it.

It backed away, still hissing.

I took another step. It turned and ran. I raced after it, caught it with a flying tackle at the head of the stairs.

“No!” it screamed, struggling to escape my grasp. “Get back!”

I was too sure to let go now. I clutched it to me, for it was my own. Screaming, it clawed its way forward until it managed to pull both itself and me over the edge of the stairs.

We tumbled down, rolling over and over, thumping and bouncing. It felt as if I were trapped in a cement mixer, but I didn’t let go. When we hit the bottom, I was on top. Wrapping my arms around the creature, I pulled it to me and whispered, “You’re mine. You’re mine, and I claim you.”

I could feel it wavering, growing thinner in my arms. But it was still struggling, still real and solid.

Stronger now, I pinned it to the floor. I stared at that fierce and horrid face—my own face, twisted and ravaged by all my anger. Pushing past my disgust, my revulsion, I pressed my cheek to the creature’s.

“You’re mine,” I whispered in its ear. “Welcome home.”