As the cab pulled away from the apartment, I couldn't shake the image of that twisted reflection from my mind. The shadows had seemed alive, creeping along the walls as if they were reaching for me. The unease clung to me like a second skin, refusing to let go even after I arrived at my friend's place. 

Memories of the days when I first moved into the apartment came flashing back. I had been so excited, looking forward to a fresh start in a new city. The apartment, was perfect at first glance, with its vintage charm and spacious rooms. It was in a quiet neighborhood. Just the way I liked it. All of the furniture was recently done. The rent was way less than any others in the area. The owner lived far away and would only come in once to collect the rent.

It was too good to be true and I leapt at the first opportunity. And now here I was, running away from it and questioning my choices. Maybe I was overthinking. It was nothing. 

I decided to douse myself in wine to help me sleep. It worked. 

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I had been struggling with a particularly heavy box, my arms aching from the effort, when I heard a soft voice behind me.

"Need some help?"

I turned around to see a girl standing in the doorway, her brown hair cascading over her shoulders. She had a striking appearance—sharp features softened by an easy smile and dark eyes that seemed to take in everything at once.

"Thanks," I managed, grateful for the assistance.

She stepped forward and effortlessly lifted the box I had been wrestling with. "I'm Mona," she introduced herself, setting the box down in the living room. "Your new flatmate."

"Priya," I replied, wiping the sweat from my brow.

"Welcome," Mona said, her smile widening. "It's a great place, really. The building is a little old but we've got new furniture. It has character."

I glanced around at the new wallpaper and newly worked on floorboards. "Yeah, it definitely has something."

We spent the next few hours chatting as I unpacked. Mona was easy to talk to, her conversation flowing effortlessly from one topic to the next. She told me about the neighborhood, the best places to grab coffee, and the quirks of the old building. There was something about her—an air of confidence mixed with a hint of mystery—that made me feel at ease.

As the sun set, casting long shadows across the room, Mona stood up to leave. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to knock on my door," she said, her tone warm. "We have to stick together."

"Thanks, Mona," I said, genuinely touched by her kindness. "I appreciate it."

"Ofcourse, we are gonna be soul sisters! Just you watch" She squealed with a sudden excitement in her voice. 

Woah! Soul sisters? Wasn't that too early to say. We just met. I thought and just gave out a surprised smile. 

"I just know it in my bones", said Mona and stared at me with a weird smile. 

I felt a shiver through my spine and before I could comprehend any further I saw it. A shadow started to loom in from one of the corners of the hall. The apartment suddenly became darker and cold. As I watched, the shadow took the form of a dark figure, wrapped in a shroud. It started to inch towards me. But I coudn't move. I tried to shout but instead started gasping for air.

I woke up abruptly. Sweating and my hands flinging around. I realised it was a horrible dream. I sat there covering my face, and then came the tears. I didn't know what was happening and why. I didn't know whom I could speak with. Nothing made any sense. It was 12:30 PM.

Later in the afternoon, I returned to the apartment, steeling myself for whatever mood Mona might be in. But when I stepped inside, the place was eerily quiet. The curtains were drawn, casting long, dark shadows across the room. A faint smell of stale cigarettes and perfume lingered in the air, a reminder of last night's events.

"Mona?" I called out, but there was no answer.

As I walked through the familiar hallway my mind went back to the first night I had spent there. I had woken up to the sound of footsteps in the hallway, but when I got up to check, no one was there. The apartment had felt colder than it should have, and the air had been thick with the scent of something old and musty, like a forgotten attic. Back then I had brushed it off, telling myself it was just my imagination. But now, I wasn't so sure.

I made my way to Mona's room, half expecting to find her still in bed, nursing a hangover. But the door was ajar, and the room, empty. The bed was neatly made, which was unusual for Mona, who typically left a trail of chaos in her wake.

I hesitated at the threshold, a gnawing feeling of dread building in the pit of my stomach. Something wasn't right. My eyes were drawn to the dresser, where a stack of papers had been carelessly tossed. Among them was a small, leather-bound book, its edges worn and frayed with age.

Curiosity got the better of me. I crossed the room and picked up the book, its cover cool to the touch. The leather was cracked, the binding barely holding the pages together. I flipped it open, revealing yellowed pages filled with neat, spidery handwriting. It wasn't Mona's handwriting—this was older, more delicate.

As I read the first few lines, I realized this wasn't just any book. It was a journal, and from the dated entries, it had belonged to someone decades ago. The name "Lillian" was scrawled across the inside cover.

I had heard that name somewhere, but couldn't quite place it.

The first few entries were innocent enough, detailing mundane daily routines—shopping trips, visits with friends. But as I flipped further, the tone began to change. The entries became disjointed, filled with strange, cryptic descriptions of "dark shadows" and "whispering voices" that seemed to follow Lillian everywhere.

One passage in particular made my blood run cold:

"There's something here, in this apartment. I can feel it watching me, even in the dead of night. I've tried to tell Henry, but he brushes it off, says it's just the loneliness talking. But I know it's more than that."

"Last night, I saw it—a figure in the mirror, standing behind me. It wasn't Henry. It wasn't me. I don't know what it wants, but I'm terrified it's coming for Mona next."

My heart skipped a beat as I recalled that this was Mona's mother's name.

The words seemed to pulse on the page, and I had to blink several times to clear my vision. My breath came in shallow gasps as I closed the journal, clutching it to my chest like a shield. The room suddenly felt colder, as if the temperature had dropped several degrees in an instant.

I forced myself to move, to leave Mona's room before whatever was lurking in the shadows decided to make itself known. As I backed out of the room, I caught a glimpse of the mirror on Mona's wall. The surface was cracked, a jagged line running down the center like a scar. For a moment, I thought I saw something in the reflection—a dark shape moving just out of sight—but when I blinked, it was gone.

My decision to stay in the apartment had been a mistake. I should have trusted my instincts the moment I first noticed the strangeness in this place. But I was stubborn, determined to make it work. Now, I realized that there was something here—something dark and malevolent.

I hurried to my room and slipped the journal into my bag, knowing that I needed to understand what had happened to Lillian—and what might be happening to Mona. I grabbed my laptop and packed my go-to bag with essentials I needed to manage for a week.

I dashed out of the apartment, my heart pounding in my chest. Whatever secrets this journal held, I knew one thing for certain: I had to find out what happened to Lillian before it was too late. But I couldn't risk staying here at my apartment. I boarded a cab, sent an email to my boss requesting leave for a week, and started to jot down where I could hole up.

The cab sped away from the apartment, the city lights blurring into a haze of neon and darkness. I leaned back, feeling a strange mix of relief and dread. I decided to head to a motel far from the apartment, somewhere quiet where I could think and figure out what to do next. The cab driver gave me a curious look when I mentioned the motel's name—it was known for being a bit out of the way, almost forgotten by the city around it. But that was exactly what I needed—a place where I could disappear for a while, where the shadows couldn't find me.