I remember the night it all changed.

I woke up, drenched in sweat, my bladder screaming my name. It was a winter night, but it was as if I was trapped in a sauna, my pajamas stuck onto me like a second skin. Still, I would have preferred being below the duvet; my core felt like ice, despite my skin burning up.

Forced to leave the comfort of my bed, I peeled the clothing off myself before teetering through the darkness, the layout of the room familiar, and maneuvered mindlessly. I was a sensitive sleeper, so I liked having my room pitch black. My parents, on the other hand, kept the house lit like a Christmas tree, (likely to keep burglars away) so it felt like I transcended to heaven when I opened the passage door.

The halo of light was blinding and I clenched my eyes shut, futilely attempting to somehow stop sleep slipping away from me. I was dazed, and unlike the practiced ease of which I walked in the darkness of my room, I began stumbling forward, seeking refuge in the bathroom. There, I shut out the blinding force and completed my business as usual — without the light on — proceeding to flush the toilet, and wash my hands in warm water.

It was a mundane task that I had done countless times; my brain was on autopilot, eyes half closed, trying to preserve sleep which added a vignette effect to my vision. So when I looked up at the mirror and saw that it was frosted, I thought little of it; perhaps condensation of the water and the frigid air.

Grasping a cloth from the towel warmer, I started wiping the surface of the mirror as though coaxing a secret to reveal itself. The condensation didn't go away.

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I increased the pressure, circular motions gradually growing more determined: rougher, harder, faster, before pausing to stare at the mirror.

"What on earth?" I said, confused. The cloth still felt dry to the touch, and the haze remained. Wiping the mirror had no immediate effect.

Then, almost imperceptibly at first, a shadow of a reflection emerged. I didn't question it. In fact, I thought it was a result of my hard work. Had I been fully awake, the dry cloth and still misty mirror would have been dead giveaways that this was not normal, but I was still half asleep - suppressing my mind even - so I only considered the oddity of the cloth and nothing further.

The change encouraged me and I reached to finish the job. My mother was very particular about bathroom etiquette. Finding water on the floor or condensation —

"—Aaagh!" I propelled backwards, jerking away as the shadow gained definition — definition of a woman; the reflection staring back at me was not my own.

Fear coursed through my veins, and my hands reached for the switch, bathing the room with light. My head snapped back to the mirror, palms raised as though they'd protect me from the spectre, but the mysterious shadow was gone, leaving only my wide-eyed reflection staring back at me, cowering behind his arms.

"What...was that?" Heart racing and a mixture of relief and apprehension churning in my stomach, I cautiously approached the mirror, the weight on the balls of my feet incase I need to leap back. The mirror was cool to touch and expectantly moist... it was normal.

Was it a fever dream perhaps? I was ill, so it was the likeliest explanation. The alternative… what was the alternative? A ghost? Sleep deprivation? Someone's power? I hadn't yet changed, so it wasn't me.

My mind raced through the possibilities as I stared at my reflection, eyes occasionally flitting around the reflective canvas for signs of something supernatural. That's when I heard it. The faint creaking of floor boards, slowly getting louder, getting close—

Knock, Knock.

I startled hard, head snapping towards the door.

Someone was outside.