Dear mom and dad,

I'm writing this just moments before I die. I want you to know it's not your fault. I know you never believed me but maybe this letter will convince you that I wasn't crazy. Or maybe it will.

I first saw it when I was 10. I was trying on mom's jewelry in front of that antique mirror that mom wouldn't let me use. I don't know if it was the mirror or me… I saw it in a mirror, but it wasn't there when I turned around. At first I thought it was just a shadow, especially when it wasn't there when I turned. But I saw it so clearly in the mirror. And once it extended its long arm toward me I screamed and ran. I'm sure you remember that, since you accused me of ruining your anniversary. You made sure I imagined it and made me forget.

It didn't really work. I saw it again when I was 13 at Mary Alice's party. Mary Alice was putting some makeup on me and she told me to look myself up in the mirror. I saw it more clearly this time as it was quite close. It was tall, at least 6 feet. It had three eyes on its face, but its face was not arranged like ours. Lips were on top of the face, it had no nose and where a nose should be it had one big eye. Two smaller eyes were on the bottom of the face. Body was shadowy, not defined but I caught a glimpse of its several arms. It had no legs, only a shadowy bottom that floated above ground. I couldn't scream or talk, I was petrified. But I did close my eyes and that's when it moved closer. As soon as I opened them again it stood right behind me, hands outstretched wanting to touch me. I screamed and ran out of the house, wanting to go home. You gave me quite a lecture on manners and how to not embarrass your family…

I learned quickly how to deal with it, seeing it more frequently in my teenage years. I had to look at it while slowly backing away from the mirror. Every time I saw it, it looked more defined, bigger, taller and it had more eyes. It had eyes on its hands, its chest… always staring at me.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

It first hurt me in my 21st year. I was house sitting for your friend and when I saw it I had enough. I stared at it and slowly blinked. With every blink it was closer and closer until it stood right behind me. I asked what it wanted and why it was haunting me, but it didn't answer. When it stood right behind me, its outstretched arm just inches away from my shoulder, I turned around. Just like that it was gone. Or so I thought. I turned toward the mirror again and the thing was touching my chest, right between my breasts. At first nothing happened but then I felt the most intensive pain of my life. It was as if I got sliced by a knife and it was going straight for my heart. I passed out. When I woke up I was lying in my own blood from three scratches that were shallow but long and stretched from my collarbone to my belly button.

After that it got braver and more aggressive. It was as if my blood gave it more sustenance. I started seeing it in every mirror and every reflection. I tried so hard to avoid it but I was just not careful enough. It started to catch me almost every week and I didn't know what else to do. That was when you noticed my wounds mom. You accused me of being depressed, of cutting myself and once again gave me the lecture that I have no business being depressed. You took me to that doctor trying to convince him that I was crazy and needed to be institutionalized.

They had no mirrors there that I could have seen and I was released soon after. Of course, I wasn't cutting myself… it was never me. Not that you would ever believe me.

It is standing behind me now. I'm so tired. I'm tired of living in fear, I'm tired of running and I'm tired of you, dear mom and dad. I'm sorry because once you find me all cut out you will finally realize that I was not crazy and something did this to me and it was not me harming myself. I'm sorry you will never get a chance to apologize for making my life miserable.

I'm done. I can see it now. It has grown so big and scary. More than eight feet now, with so many hands and eyes. I knew this would be my last time as it won't let me go. Luckily I had my phone with me so I can write this last letter to you two.

Goodbye mom and dad. I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault. But neither was it mine.

Your daughter