The Rip
Then—the mirror screeched.
A sharp, metallic scratching sound that set his teeth on edge. He spun around, eyes wide. Something was carving into the fogged glass, long, jagged letters forming as though written by an invisible claw.
R – I – P
Travis backed away, heart slamming in his chest.
“Who’s there?! I’ll fucking kill you!”
No reply—just the screeching, and the thick steam growing heavier by the second, coiling around his legs like vines.
He ran back to the door, shoulder-slamming it again and again. The hinges rattled, but the wood refused to yield.
Bab Populer