Then the mirror decided to show me a reflection that wasn't my own on the first night in my new apartment. It showed a woman bound in ropes suspend from the ceiling. She is blindfolded and naked, and there's a gag in her mouth.

Her skin is flushed pink, and her nipples are hard. Her legs spread wide, and her pussy is glistening with wetness.

The man in the reflection is behind her, and he's slowly running his hands up and down her sides. He's also naked, and his cock is hard and jutting out from his hips. He rubs himself between her lower lips.

I can't help but watch the scene unfold from my bed. It's like watching a train wreck. You know you shouldn't look, but you can't tear your eyes away.

"This isn't real." I muttered to myself.

As the woman's cries turn to pleasure, she orgasms and collapses forward.

I stumbled out of bed to check the mirror for a wire or something, but nothing. When I looked back up, the vision was gone, and the mirror was once again a normal reflection.

This was the start of my nightly routine. I would wake up, look into the mirror, and see the same man have sex with a different partner or partners.

Some nights, they're kinky. Others, they're rough. And others, they're vanilla.

Some nights, it would be an orgy. Others an elegant party turning down for the night.

And no matter how much I try, the mirror would always show a man I didn't know.

Sighing, I made myself a cup of tea and glanced over the boxes I had left to unpack in my living room. The silence of the apartment was unnerving.

The soft ticking of the clock echoed in the small room. I sipped my tea, and it did little to soothe my frayed nerves. The darkness seemed to engulf me, and I could feel my anxiety creeping up my spine.

I had hoped that by moving into a new place, I would finally be able to escape the memories of Charles. But it seems they were determined to haunt me.

I could see his face in the shadows, hear his voice in the silence. Everywhere I turned, he was there, taunting me with his affair. How could I have not noticed? How had I been so blind?

As the questions swirled in my mind, the bitterness of my betrayal crept back in. I was alone and heartbroken and I didn't know how to fix it.

I bit my lip, thinking. Maybe it was time to invite my best friend over and stop ignoring her calls. I grabbed the phone and dialed.

"Juliana Muther fuck'n Thompson?"

"Hey Cleo, can you come over? I'm not doing so good."

"You know I should curse you out for ignoring me, but I'll do it in person."

"I'm so sorry."

"You will be sorry. Address, chick! Do you need anything? I got chocolate, wine and all the Chocolate City and Magic Mike movies."

"No, just yourself."

"Ok, I'll bring some hard liquor." She giggled.

"That will be great, but you don't have to." I texted her my new address.

"Girl, I'm already dressed and driving. Be there in 20. Love you!"

"Love you, too."

Cleopatra's eyes widened as she looked around the lobby of my new apartment. "This must've been expensive," she murmured, her voice barely exceeding a whisper.

I only smiled and gestured toward the elevators with my head. "It comes with a doorman too," I replied quietly.

"I noticed, along with the gated entrance and reserved parking. It's like a little hidden compound in the middle of River North." Cleo said, glancing at the suited figure standing stiffly in front of the lobby desk. He nodded as we made our way to the elevators. "Did you use your--?"

"My house savings." I confirmed once in the elevator, trying to ignore the sudden lump that had formed in my throat. "I paid six months in advance."

"Jules?"

"Yes." I replied, and she shook her head as I led her down the hall to my new apartment.

"Well, it looks nice," Cleo said, trying to cheer me up.

"Yeah," I said and shrugged.

"You should be excited."

"I know. It's just..."

"Charles is an ass and world knows it."

I sigh and nod.

"Well , girl. Show me around after I make us some drinks. Where is your kitchen?"

Cleopatra Jones, my rock in this stormy sea of life since fifth grade, stood by my side with an air of fierce loyalty. Her curly blonde hair framed her sable face like a halo, her warm brown eyes shimmering with genuine concern. As much as I wanted to believe her, even I had to admit that Nivea Ruiz was a force to be reckoned with.

"Maybe you're right, Cleo, but there's no point dwelling on it now," I sighed, leading her to the kitchen. Everything felt so empty, so foreign. I could almost feel the tendrils of loneliness creeping in, threatening to pull me under.

"Juliana, I wish you would've called me sooner," Cleopatra chided, her voice softening. "I mean, Charles breaking up with you at your anniversary dinner? That's just... cruel." She shook her head, disbelief etched across her features. Then she began making us sangrias. "But I understand if you needed some time to yourself. Just... don't shut me out, alright?"

I nodded, feeling a lump forming in my throat. "Of course, Cleo. Thank you for being here."

As we settle on the kitchen counter, I couldn't help but let my thoughts drift back to that night - Charles' cold, unfeeling eyes as he delivered the final blow to our relationship. The bitterness of betrayal still lingered like a foul taste in my mouth.

"Jules," Cleopatra said gently, snapping me out of my reverie. "Whatever happens, just remember: you are strong, and you will get through this. Don't let Charles or his side chick hold you back."

Her words washed over me, a balm for my wounded soul. I didn't know what lay ahead, but with Cleopatra by my side, I knew I wouldn't have to face it alone.

"Come on, let me show you around," I said, motioning for Cleopatra to follow me through the apartment. We weaved our way through the living room, stopping only to admire the view from the window.

"Wow, this place has some amazing natural light," Cleopatra commented. She leaned against the window, the Chicago's skyline stretched out before her.

The city spread out below, as far as the eye could see. In the distance, the sun split the sky with its setting rays, casting a reddish-orange glow on the skyline. The crackling of the fire joined the calming sounds of the city as they washed over us.

Everywhere I looked, the view was some kind of new discovery. To the east, the lake was a writhing mass of clouds and fog. It was only visible because of the massive buildings that flanked it, which acted as a frame to the dramatic scenery.

"Let's finish the tour." I waved her away from the window.

I led her down the hallway, pointing out the guest bedroom and bathroom before arriving at my sanctuary - the master bedroom. The bed was still unmade, a testament to the chaotic morning I'd had, but Cleopatra didn't seem to mind.

"Girl, this is nice," she said, plopping down onto the bed with an appreciative sigh. "You've always had good taste. Maybe you should hint at Sterling that I want this bed. "

"Thanks, Cleo. I will" I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm and the mention of her husband. It felt strangely comforting to have someone else appreciate the space Charles, and I had once shared.

We continued our tour, ending in the kitchen where are I pour two generous glasses from the sangria pitcher.

"So, Jules, are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

I took a sip, savoring the sweet and tangy flavors. "What's there to talk about?"

Cleopatra shook her head, a look of exasperation crossing her face. "How about the fact that Charles cheated on you? Or that you've locked yourself away for two weeks? Those seem like pretty good places to start."

I fought back the tears that were welling up by blinking. Crying is not something I wanted to do right now. "I'm fine, Cleo. Really."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Jules..."

"Cleo, please. Just drop it."

Cleopatra sighed. "Fine. But you're not going to get better if you keep pushing people away."

As the night wore on, the drinks flowed freely, and it wasn't long before Cleopatra's laughter grew louder, her speech slurring ever so slightly.

"Jules, girl, I gotta say... I'm really glad we're doin' this," she said, her words punctuated by hiccups. "You needed this night, and so did I."

"Me too, Cleo," I agreed, feeling warmth spread through me as I realized how much her friendship meant to me.

It was late into the evening when the doorbell rang, signaling Sterling's arrival to pick up his wife. He always knew to pick her up close to 1am. I didn't know if they agreed on it or he did it on his own, but I didn't ask. I moved to open the door, revealing a tall, muscular man with a kind smile.

"Hey, Juliana," Sterling said, his voice gentle as he took in my disheveled appearance, probably from sleep. I led him to the living room, where Cleo curled herself into a ball on my couch. The smile on his face was one of unconditional love. I felt a pinch of envy in my chest. Then he looked back to me. "I'm sorry to hear about you and Charles. Honestly, I never really liked him for you. He always seemed... fake."

"Thank you, Sterling," I replied, touched by his concern. "That means a lot."

"Juliana, you're too good for him. He wasn't ready for someone like you." His words warmed me, providing a sense of validation I hadn't realized I'd been craving.

"Come on, babe," he said, carefully woke her up and helped her to feet while grabbing her purse. With an arm wrapped around Cleopatra's waist as he guided her towards the door. "Let's get you home."

"Juliana," Sterling called back before stepping out into the hallway, "if you need any more help moving furniture or putting things together, just give me a call. I'll have me and my crew come over."

"Thank you, Sterling, and good night" I managed, my voice wavering slightly as I closed the door behind them.

I stood there for a moment, allowing the weight of the evening to settle over me. Despite the emotional turmoil that had led me to this point, I couldn't help but feel a small spark of hope flicker to life within me. With friends like Cleopatra and Sterling by my side, maybe I could make it through this after all. And perhaps, in time, I would find my own strength again.

After the door closed behind Cleopatra and Sterling, I made my way to the bathroom to wash up for bed. The events of the evening had left me drained, both physically and emotionally. As I brushed my teeth, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror; the reflection staring back at me seemed foreign, like someone I used to know but couldn't quite remember. I shrugged it off. It'll be a while before I fully shed my old skin for my new one.

I stripped off my clothes and slipped beneath the cool sheets, eager for the embrace of sleep to whisk me away from the harsh reality of my life. But as soon as I closed my eyes, soft murmurs and giggles filled the room. My heart raced as I sat up, scanning the darkness for the source of the sounds.

The Mirror?

I glance up, but it was showing my reflection.

"Hello?" I whispered hesitantly into the stillness. There was no response, but the noises grew louder. I glanced through the open door bedroom door. There was no lights on in the rush of the apartment. The sounds didn't seem to be coming from the living room TV, which I had turned off before going to bed.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for the lamp on the bedside table, filling the room with a warm, yellow glow. That's when I saw it - the mirror.

The large, antique mirror that I'd inherited from my grandmother stood against the wall opposite my bed. It was framed by intricately carved mahogany wood, and the glass appeared to have been meticulously polished, reflecting the light from the lamp with an almost supernatural intensity.

But the reflection in the mirror rippled and wasn't my bedroom anymore. Instead, it showed the man's apartment entirely as the mirror was moved on his end to a higher focal point. An elegantly furnished living room came into view, complete with plush velvet couches and gleaming hardwood floors. A group of people, engaged in lively conversation, wandered through the space, their laughter mingling with the clink of wine glasses.

I rubbed my eyes, convinced that I was hallucinating, but the image remained. The people in the mirror were unaware of my presence, continuing their animated discussions as I stared at them, dumbfounded.

"Why can't the mirror let me sleep?" I muttered to myself, my heart pounding in my chest.

I rose from the bed and approached the mirror, running my fingers along the smooth surface of the glass, half expecting it to ripple like water beneath my touch. But it remained solid, unyielding. I stepped back, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of what was happening. It didn't even shock me this time, but it still refused to move from the wall.

"Focus, Juliana," I told myself, taking a deep breath. "You may just have to invest in a sleeping mask and ear plugs. Because I refuse to be ran out of my own bedroom."

But, despite my brave words, a chill ran down my spine as the image in the mirror shifted, showing the Man with a different woman. This one had auburn hair and emerald eyes. Her body was toned and athletic, and she was clearly enjoying every minute of her encounter with the man. I watched as the man pounded her from behind, her moans growing louder with each thrust. I could feel my face flush, and the heat rising between my legs, the same way it had done for the first time.

I shook my head, trying to clear the lustful thoughts from my mind, but the mirror refused to yield.

"Why won't you let me sleep?!" I demanded, but the mirror was silent, its reflective surface taunting me with the erotic scene unfolding before me.

I turned my back on the mirror and climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up over my head. But the sounds of the man's grunts and the woman's pleasure-filled moans echoed in my ears, and I found myself tossing and turning, unable to find rest.

"Dammit, Juliana, this is ridiculous," I muttered, sitting up and throwing the covers aside. I stalked over to the mirror and glared at it defiantly. "What do you want from me? What are you trying to tell me?"

The mirror's crimson light faded, plunging the room into darkness once more. An icy dread crept through my veins as I waited for something to happen. Then, the mirror's crimson light blazed to life, illuminating the room in an unearthly hue., the man's naked form reflected in the glass.

He stood in a darkened bedroom, illuminated only by the soft glow of moonlight spilling in through the windows. His dark hair was disheveled, and his face was a mask of concentration as he gazed down at the woman who was now splayed across his bed.

Something was wrong. The woman was unconscious.

I could barely make out the rise and fall of her chest, but it was evident that she was not awake. As the man began to move, my breath caught in my throat and a chill course through me.

Was this reality or just another illusion? A past recollection? Or something more sinister?

A frigid sweat beaded over my skin as I watched his hands caress her motionless body, his touch both gentle and insistent. He lifted her head and with a quick jerk.

He snapped her neck, like it was made of porcelain

His face remained impassive, and his movements were methodical as he arranged the woman's body on the bed. There was a certain detached air about him, as if he were simply completing a task, not ending someone's life.

I stood, terrified and frozen, watching the man on the other side of the mirror.

The man glanced up, his gaze locking onto mine. His green eyes were cold and dark, and I felt a shudder rips down my spine. Then, the mirror's crimson light dimmed until all that remained was complete darkness once more. I stared out into the void, horror and disbelief washing over me as I realized what I had just witnessed.

What? What?

Can he see us?

From sexy stud to dangerous, who is this man and why is Juliana privy to his sex play? Is killing part of it?

Let me know your thoughts.