(Nora's POV)
We didn't talk a lot on the way home. I think we were lost in our own thoughts.
When he pulled into my driveway, the porch light blinked twice before staying on. Edison didn't move.
"Are you coming in?" I asked softly.
He blinked slowly, then nodded. "Yeah. Just... give me a sec."
"Sure."
Inside, the house was dark except for the hallway lamp. Grandma had left it on for us. She said darkness was the devil's favorite invitation. She said a lot of things like that lately. I used to laugh it off. Now, I wasn't so sure.
We dropped our bags by the door and headed into the kitchen. Edison grabbed a glass of water, his hand trembling just enough for me to notice.
"You okay?" I asked.
He stared at the faucet as it ran, like water was the most mysterious thing in the universe. Then he turned it off and looked at me.
"I don't know," he said.
I nodded. "Want to talk?"
"Yeah, okay."
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "What was that, Edison?"
"Some kind of freaky, bizarre thing. An unexplainable thing."
"Your eyes changed," I said.
He looked up sharply. "You saw that?"
"Yeah."
He dropped into the kitchen chair, the old wooden one that creaked under the slightest weight. "It felt like I left my body for a minute," he whispered.
My throat tightened. "That's not normal."
"No shit, Nora."
We stared at each other. I couldn't tell if he wanted me closer or farther away. Maybe both.
After a moment, I moved to the table and sat across from him. "There's something I should probably tell you," I said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Now's a heck of a time to confess something."
I ignored the edge in his voice. "My grandma. The one I spent tons of time with when my parents were working so much, she's into some weird stuff. Spiritual warfare, she calls it."
"I know what it is, but you never really talk about your grandma."
"She'd been saying a lot of things like that lately. It's all kinda weird and spooky to me."
Silence. Then a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, you think this thing is related to evil?"
I looked away. "I don't know what to think. But I know what I felt."
He leaned forward suddenly, voice low. "You felt something?"
I nodded. "When I touched you. It was like... electricity. But not the good kind. It was cold. Wrong."
Edison swallowed hard, eyes flicking to the hallway mirror behind me. His face paled.
"What?" I turned to look.
Nothing there.
Except... the mirror wasn't reflecting the kitchen properly. The light above us flickered in the reflection, but not in real life.
I stood and moved toward it. The reflection shifted as I got closer—slightly delayed, like a bad video feed. My own eyes in the mirror were wrong, too. Too wide. Too dark.
A whisper brushed past my ear. Keep him safe.
I spun, but no one was there.
Edison had stood up, watching me carefully now. "What is it?"
"A warning."
Edison didn't say much after that. We stood there for a while in the kitchen, like two people waiting for the storm to hit. Then he mumbled something about needing sleep and left without finishing his water.
That night, I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the mirror, not the real one, but the wrong one. My own eyes staring back at me too wide, too dark. The whisper repeating: Keep him safe.
Safe from what?
By morning, I was still buzzing with that awful energy. It clung to me like static under my skin. Edison hadn't texted. Not even a good night or "WTF was that?" Just radio silence.
~~~
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