Therapy Bits

My thanks to Fandango for this story starter prompt.

Fandango’s Story Starter #201 – Facts, Fictions & Fantasies

The door and windows were locked from the inside, yet the body lay cold on the lawn below.

Detective Marla Quinn stood on the dew-soaked grass, eyes narrowed at the sprawled figure in silk pajamas. The man’s neck bent at an angle nature never intended, and a fine spiderweb of blood painted the concrete like abstract art. No signs of forced entry, no sign of struggle—just an open window on the second floor and silence so complete it felt choreographed.

“Locked tight,” Officer Devine said, descending from the front porch. “Deadbolt’s turned, chain latched from inside. Windows same. Only thing open is the one he fell from.”

“Jump?” Marla asked without conviction.

Devine shook his head. “Too neat. Slippers still on. No scuff marks on the sill. No prints but his.”

Marla glanced up at the gaping window. “Then he flew.”

Inside, the house was a museum of stillness. The air smelled faintly of lavender and something metallic. A mug of untouched tea sat on the nightstand, steam long vanished. On the desk, a leather-bound journal lay open. She flipped a few pages. Detailed notes in a fine, slanted hand: dreams, diagrams, dates. Symbols she didn’t recognize.

Then a final line, written with haste, or fear: It watches through mirrors.

Marla looked up. The vanity mirror across the room caught her gaze. She moved closer. For a moment, her own reflection seemed to lag—just a half-second too slow. She froze.

“You see that?” she asked, pointing.

Devine stepped beside her, peering into the glass. “See what?”

But the lag was gone. Her reflection blinked in perfect sync.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

Back outside, the coroner zipped the bag. “No sign of drugs. Clean break in the neck. Like something twisted him mid-fall.”

“Something?” Devine echoed, frowning.

Marla didn’t reply. She looked up at the window again, then at the other houses. Every pane of glass shimmered in the rising sun. Every reflection flawless, too flawless. Too obedient.

She took a step back.

“What is it?” Devine asked.

“Get someone to cover every mirror in that house.”

Devine raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she took out her phone, staring at her own reflection in the dark screen. It stared back.

Then it smiled. She didn’t.

Marla dropped the phone. It landed face-up in the grass.

Her reflection still smiled.