Arman couldn't take it anymore.
At sunrise, he went upstairs with a hammer.
He broke the first lock.
Then the second.
Then the third.
The door slowly opened.
The smell hit him first.
Mold. Damp wood. Something metallic.
The room was almost empty.
Except for one chair in the center.
Facing the wall.
On the wall were scratches.
Hundreds of them.
And words carved deeply into the wood:
"IT'S NOT IN HERE."
"IT'S NOT IN HERE."
"IT'S NOT IN HERE."
Over and over.
Suddenly—
The door behind him slammed shut.
The temperature dropped instantly.
And then he saw it.
Not with his eyes.
But in the mirror leaning against the corner.
Behind him stood a tall shadow.
Its shape unnatural. Its head tilted at an impossible angle.
It didn't move.
But its reflection smiled.
A wide, stretching grin.
Arman tried to turn around.
He couldn't.
His body refused.
The shadow leaned closer in the mirror.
Its mouth opened.
And in a broken, layered voice, it said:
"You opened the wrong door."
The mirror cracked.
Darkness swallowed the room.