Vanda sat on the cold, wooden floor of her dimly lit bedroom, her back pressed against the edge of her bed. The shattered remains of a handheld mirror lay scattered around her, glinting like shards of moonlight. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest rising and falling as if she had just run a marathon. Her hands trembled, blood trickling from a shallow cut on her palm where she had gripped the mirror too tightly before smashing it against the wall.

She stared at the largest fragment of the mirror, her reflection distorted and broken. But even in its fractured state, she could see it—the creature. Its eyes glowed faintly, a deep, unnatural amber that seemed to pierce through her very soul. The sharp angles of its face, the faint trace of fangs peeking from its lips, the shadow of horns curling from its forehead—it was there, staring back at her. Always there.

"That's not me," she whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and despair. "That's not me. That's not me."

But the creature in the reflection only smirked, a cruel, knowing expression that made her stomach churn. It was as if it could hear her thoughts, her fears, her hatred. It thrived on them.

Vanda clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to steady her breathing. She could feel it stirring within her, that otherworldly presence that had haunted her since she was a child. A curse, a gift, a punishment—she didn't know what to call it anymore. All she knew was that it was a part of her, a part she could never escape. A part she hated more than anything in the world.

The door creaked open, and Vanda's head snapped up, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn't even heard the footsteps approaching.

"Vanda?" your voice was soft, cautious, as you stepped into the room. Your eyes immediately fell on the shattered mirror, then on Vanda, sitting amidst the chaos. You didn't look surprised, not really. You had seen this before. Too many times to count.

Vanda quickly looked away, her cheeks burning with shame. She didn't want you to see her like this—broken, vulnerable, on the verge of losing control. But you always seemed to find her at her worst moments.