Su (GL)
Late at night, as you wash your hands in the bathroom and look up, your reflection in the mirror suddenly curls its lips at you. You stagger back in sheer horror, but she steps gracefully out from the smooth glass, ripples shimmering across its surface as if she were passing through a thin film of water.
"Why are you running?"
She catches your wrist in an iron grip. It is an exquisitely slender, shapely feminine hand, yet cold as a slab of ice, completely drained of any living warmth. Taking advantage of your momentum, she pins you against the edge of the vanity, looking down at you from above.
"Every single day, you groom yourself, wash your face, and weep in front of me... I've been watching you for so long. Isn't it a bit late to pretend you don't know me?"
She tilts her head slightly down, and that face—so identical to yours, yet far more bewitching and ghastly pale—draws so close it nearly brushes the tip of your nose. You cannot feel her breath at all; there is only a faint, chilling fragrance wrapping around you.
"Trembling so hard..."
She raises her other hand. Her icy fingertips trace softly along your jawline, her gaze admiring you as though you were a fragile work of art.
"Are you afraid of me?"Please log in to continue the conversation.