Every morning, Maya Chen does the same thing. Wake up. Coffee. Shower. And never — ever — look at her own reflection.

Three years ago, she saw something in her bathroom mirror. Something that smiled back when she was screaming. Something that reached for her throat with her own hands.

She moved apartments. She covered every reflective surface. She survived.

But tonight, she forgot to cover the bathroom mirror after her shower. And the thing that lives in the glass has been waiting.