A Stranger In The Mirror Book Novels & Stories

— A Stranger By the time I was done reading, tears had built in my eyes. How could a stranger be so good with words? Why did he have to leave this letter behind and write it so perfectly, it felt like I am actually cared for. I wiped my eyes as the tears threatened to stream down my face. I couldn't feel this much emotions for a stranger whose plan was to use me as a human incubator. I shut my eyes to take a hold of myself.

In front of me is the mirror which I know more than anyone else that if I dare to look into that mirror I can't keep my gaze away from him, and if I can't look front I can only look back but he is behind me, it's not like I can close my else when a stranger is behind me, besides, the stranger is a male and I'm naked. I gulped once more "What are you doing here," I asked trying as much as possible to make my voice come out neutral as my fingers are still buried inside my pussy and any slight movement would make me release a good moan, but I was secretly confused as I felt my pussy leaking more, I don't want to relate it to the gorgeous male but my body is reacting otherwise. He chuckled again

"But you're just an insect. Don't try to step on my toes, okay? You’ll get crushed." Ben stared at the boy in the mirror. The thing was sickeningly confident, and it made his blood boil. But those hooded eyes showed no traces of ignorance or stupidity. They made him feel like a helpless child, they stared right through him. He gripped the useless magnets tight like a safety blanket. He wanted to throw them at his jeering face. "Bugs can be poisonous, for one." Tyler taught him that. “And for two, it’s a little hard to step on a stupid mirrors toes, it doesn’t have any.”

Because the mirror wouldn’t let me. I saw the truth too clearly. I wasn’t resisting. I wasn’t fighting. I was opening. The reflection became unbearable like I was watching a stranger sin in my place, a stranger who wore my skin, my mouth, my shame. And yet, the deeper his hands explored, the less she looked like a stranger at all. The girl in the mirror was me. And she was hungry. Every time my breath hitched, hers did too. Every time my body arched, hers curved with me. A perfect shadow, echoing my fall.

But before my hand could touch the mirror, I saw another hand reaching for the same item. It wasn’t a woman’s hand but a man’s. When I looked at my left to see this fellow, I felt my whole body vibrate at the sight of the stranger next to me. His hair was red brown with a nice cool toned skin. His eyes were brown and his body… Waw! “Hi,” he said, slowly drawing his back. “Um… Hi,” I responded, drawing my hand as well. “I’m sorry. Where you going to buy that?” he asked, pointing at the mirror.

A strange calm sat heavy on my shoulders, though it trembled slightly around the edges — like a ripple caught beneath a sheet of glass. I stood before the mirror, still as the moon itself, and stared. And I was staring at a stranger in the mirror. Not a complete stranger—not someone unrecognizable—but a version of myself I’d never seen before. A version that had been hidden somewhere deep beneath woolen sweaters and crumpled parchment, beneath bruised pride and soft-spoken apologies. She stared back at me now through the silvery haze of dawnlight slipping through the frost-glazed panes of the dormitory window, standing so still that even the dust motes seemed to hesitate in the air around he

Their eyes were wide, pupils blown, scanning the room with a kind of hesitant awe. “It’s… quieter in here,” the stranger said, voice soft, almost relieved, like stepping into a shelter from a storm. Aria nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yeah,” she murmured, her tone careful, neutral, not prying. The stranger’s gaze flicked toward the tall mirror against the far wall. “That thing… it doesn’t like me,” they admitted, voice lower now, hesitant. “I see it in my dreams.”

The situation only made me feel even more nervous. I bit my bottom lip and tried my best not to make a sound. “Good girl. It must be hard holding it in, isn’t it? Let me help you.” Apparently, the man noticed that something was wrong with me. His gaze raked over me. Then, he glanced at Samuel with a mocking smile. The man removed his pants and eagerly climbed on top of me…

But something stopped me before I'd even reached for the door, some old, deeply worn instinct that had learned, over eighteen years of being watched and judged and found wanting, that the safest thing to do with proof of your own strangeness was to hide it until you understood it well enough to control the telling of it yourself. The stranger in the woods had known what I was on scent alone. Ivy had built an entire campaign of cruelty around rumors she couldn't yet prove. And now, for the first time, I had proof of my own, undeniable and staring back at me from a cracked mirror in the middle of the night, and some frightened, cornered part of me wasn't ready to hand that proof to anyone yet,

I reached out and pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. My voice was cold, cutting through the static. "Mason Vale, do you see a ghost in your mirror?" I said coldly into the radio. Those words pierced straight through Mason's last line of composure. His car hesitated for an obvious instant on the straight. Now. I smashed the throttle down. The car tore through the air and pulled alongside him. Ahead was a chain of fast S-curves. Seeing that I was about to pass, a vicious look flashed through Mason's eyes.