"She Likes You"

Anya stumbled backward so quickly that the flashlight slipped from her hand.

It crashed against the stairs.

Darkness swallowed everything.

For one horrible second, Anya heard only her own breathing.

Then—

Tap.

Not from above.

Right behind her.

Anya spun around violently.

The hallway below was empty.

But the flashlight, lying sideways on the steps, still casts a weak beam upward toward the attic.

Toward the figure.

Only now—

the figure was gone.

The attic stood empty except for scattered boxes, hanging sheets covered in dust…

…and the doll.

Still sitting in the chair.

Still facing her.

A cold wave of relief almost reached Anya before she noticed something else.

The doll had not been this close before.

The chair now sat near the very edge of the attic opening.

As if it had been dragged forward while the lights were out.

Anya’s chest tightened painfully.

Anya: “No…” she whispered.

The doll’s cracked lips seemed different somehow.

Not smiling.

Almost trying to.

Suddenly, the flashlight flickered again.

Once.

Twice.

And in the flashing light, Anya saw the mirror standing at the back of the attic.

Except—

the reflection inside it did not match the room.

The attic in the mirror was darker.

Older.

Rotting.

The hanging sheets looked stained black with age.

The boxes appeared torn open.

And standing behind the reflection of the doll…

was the pale girl.

This time Anya saw her clearly.

Long wet hair covered most of her face. Her dress hung unnaturally still around her body. One thin hand rested gently on the doll’s shoulder.

Then the girl slowly lifted her head.

Not toward Anya.

Toward the mirror itself.

Toward the place where Anya was standing in real life.

As if she could see through it.

The flashlight died completely.

And from the darkness above—

a child’s voice whispered:

“Don’t leave me alone.”

The whisper did not sound angry.

That was the worst part.

It sounded lonely.

Anya could not move. Her fingers dug into the wooden railing as darkness pressed around her from every side. Somewhere above, water dripped softly inside the attic.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Then—

A small giggle echoed through the dark.

Not childish.

Wrong.

The flashlight suddenly turned back on by itself.

Its pale beam rolled shakily across the attic floor.

The chair was empty.

The doll was gone.

Anya’s stomach dropped.

Anya : “No…”

Her breathing became uneven as she lifted the flashlight higher.

The mirror still stood at the back of the attic.

But now the reflection showed something impossible.

The attic inside the mirror was not empty.

Anya saw herself standing there.

Same clothes.

Same frightened face.

Except the reflection-Anya was not holding a flashlight.

And she was smiling.

Slowly—

the reflection raised one finger to its lips.

A silent warning.

Behind reflection-Anya, the pale girl stood motionless beside the doll.

Then the reflection moved on its own.

Anya in the mirror leaned closer.

Closer.

Until her face nearly touched the glass from the other side.

And in a soft voice that did not belong to her, the reflection whispered:

Someone: “She likes you.”

The attic door slammed shut beneath Anya with a deafening bang.

The entire house went dark....

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