Chapter 5 - The Reflection That Wasn't There
Elena screamed, falling backward onto the wooden floor. The silver locket slipped from Lily’s hands, clattering onto the boards with a sharp ring.
"Mom!" Clara shrieked, rushing forward to grab Elena’s arm and pull her away from the cabinet. "What did you see? What is in there?!"
Elena scrambled to her feet, grabbing both girls by their hands and running frantically toward the front door. The air in the kitchen grew instantly freezing, turning their breath into visible white mist in the warm afternoon light. The front door handle was iced over, frosted white as if it were the dead of winter outside.
"It won't open!" Clara cried, yanking desperately at the brass knob while sobbing in genuine terror.
"Stand back!" Elena yelled. She threw her weight against the heavy wooden door once, twice, three times, until the latch finally gave way with a loud bang, spilling them out onto the sunny front porch.
They collapsed onto the warm concrete walkway, gasping for air as the warm summer sun beat down on their backs. Elena looked back at the house. Through the living room window, everything looked normal. The white curtains swayed gently in the breeze. There was no frost, no cold air, no terrifying face in the window.
"We are never going back in there," Clara sobbed, burying her face in her knees. Her grey polo shirt was damp with nervous sweat.
Lily stood quietly beside them, staring back at the front door with a blank expression. She reached into the pocket of her beige pants and pulled out the tarnished silver locket, holding it tightly in her fist.
"She left the back door open for us," Lily whispered, her voice returning to its normal, childish lisp.
Elena froze. She hadn't locked the back door when they fled through the front. Slowly, cautiously, Elena stood up and walked around the side of the house to the backyard patio. The sliding glass door leading into the kitchen was standing wide open, despite the fact that it had been securely locked from the inside when they first moved in three months ago.
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And standing right in the open doorway, framed by the bright white kitchen appliances, was a woman with long dark hair wearing a beige sweatshirt identical to Elena's, holding a crying toddler who looked precisely like Lily.
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