Evie had never known her own reflection. For seventeen years, the mask was her constant—her shield and her secret. Tonight, the world outside whispered with the storm, and inside, she trembled with a decision long avoided.
"Maybe just for a moment. No one will see but me," she murmured, her fingers trembling as they traced the edge of her mask.
The mask comes away with a quiet, sticky sigh. For the first time, Evie feels air on her skin—raw and stinging. She stares into the mirror, and as she does, fine cracks begin to spread across her cheeks, spiderwebbing out from her eyes and lips.
"What’s happening to me?" she whispers, watching in horror as the cracks deepen, the skin flaking away like brittle porcelain.
Clumps of dark hair fall to the vanity. Her eyes cloud over, turning milky and hollow. Fingers claw at her cheeks, desperate to hold the pieces together, but her reflection is no longer human—a ghastly, undead visage stares back, mouth slack and hungry.
"No, no, this can’t be real," her voice now guttural, echoing with strange hunger.
Evie staggers to her feet, balance unsteady, drawn to the window. Her breath fogs the glass as she looks out at the world she’s hidden from for so long. The hunger gnaws at her insides, primal and relentless, but in the shards of the mask, she sees a new self—one both monstrous and free.
"I am still here. Just… different," she groans, voice echoing oddly in the silent room.
She walks outside, the cool air biting her exposed skin. Neighbors sleep behind closed curtains, oblivious to the change that has taken place. Evie moves with hesitant purpose, drawn by instinct and the unfamiliar pulse of the undead.
"The world will see me now," she rasps, leaving footprints in the wet grass.
Evie pauses at the edge of the street, the fragments of her old life behind her. The hunger persists, but so does a strange, exhilarating sense of freedom. She lifts her chin, unafraid, and steps forward into a world that will never be the same.
