When the attic door creaked open, I couldn’t resist the temptation to explore the forbidden room, despite my husband’s warning. As I stepped into the dimly lit space, a wave of dread washed over me, and my heart started racing.

The attic was like nothing I had ever seen before. Dust filled the air, and the room was filled with strange and unsettling objects. But what caught my attention was a large, ornate mirror in the corner, covered in grime and neglect.

Driven by a sense of foreboding, I approached the mirror and began wiping away the dust. To my surprise, the reflection staring back at me was not my own but that of a young woman who looked eerily similar to me, yet her eyes held a haunting sadness.

Before I could process what I was seeing, a voice echoed through the room, startling me. I turned to find my husband standing in the doorway, his face contorted with anger and frustration.

“How dare you come in here?” he growled menacingly. “Now I have to…”

But before he could finish his sentence, darkness consumed the room, and I felt icy hands wrapping around my throat. Panic surged as I struggled to break free, but the grip only tightened, leaving me gasping for air.

Just when it seemed impossible to hold on any longer, the darkness vanished, and I found myself alone in the attic, my husband nowhere in sight. Trembling with fear, I hurried downstairs, vowing never to return to the forbidden attic again.

From that day forward, an unsettling feeling hung over our grand home. I couldn’t shake the belief that something sinister resided within its walls. And as I stared into the mirror each day, I couldn’t help but wonder about the young woman trapped within, and what horrors awaited anyone who dared to uncover the secrets of the attic.