It hung there, unmoving and solemn. A massive wall of mirror, framed in gold—the first thing I saw when I entered the rental house. Through it I could see my little family, standing in the doorway of the old mansion. My daughter, Hannah, was immediately entranced by her reflection. She spun round and round in her flowing white dress, never taking her eyes off of the mirror. I was not so enchanted by the mirror, or the house itself. Potential safety hazards were evident all around me, from the rotting wooden bannister of the staircase to the dusty, swaying glass chandelier overhead. The run-down appearance of the place contrasted sharply with the elements of past grandeur. But the rental house would have to do until we were able to move into our new home a town away.

“Hannah, time to go to your room,” my husband, Will, ordered.

“But Daddy, I don’t want to leave her behind,” Hannah gazed sadly at her other self.

“Her? You mean your reflection? That will always be there when you are by a mirror, honey.”

Hannah stood her ground until finally Will and I decided to unpack and come back for her later. As we began the long climb up the stairs, Hannah’s sweet voice rang through the empty house. I stole one more glance down at her before stepping into the hallway. She was dancing in front of the mirror to her own song, slowly swaying closer and closer to the surface. As I opened the door to my room the melody suddenly cut off. “Hannah?” I yelled down. There was only silence. Will and I both hurried out of the room to the top of the staircase.

Her tiny figure stood very straight, gazing into the mirror only a few inches in front of her face. “Hannah, are you okay?” Will called.

She faced the mirror, until slowly her head began to pivot toward us. Although she was far away I registered a sinister glare in her eyes. Never before had I seen such a look from her. A toothy grin unfolded on her delicate face as she eerily replied, “Hello Mother. Hello Father. I am just… dandy.” A chorus of her shrill laughs reverberated through the house.

“Well come along now, unpack your things,” I shakily beckoned. I knew Will could sense the change, too, but we plastered on fake smiles as we escorted our loving daughter to her bedroom for the week.

That night I awoke to find a dark figure looming over my bed. “WILL! WILL!” I shrieked, rolling across the bed for protection. Will switched the light on revealing our eight year old smiling at us.

“Hello Mother. Hello Father.” And with that she was gone.

In the morning Hannah was already down in the kitchen by the time Will and I hobbled out of bed. She sat alone at the kitchen table, twirling something in her fingers so nimbly that it was difficult to identify the object. She looked beyond us into the entry room but still greeted us with her newly coined phrase, “Hello Mother. Hello Father.”

Will identified the object first and howled, “HANNAH PUT THAT DOWN IMMEDIATELY!” Suddenly a flying object hurled past Will’s face and lodged into the doorframe. It was a knife.

“Whoops it slipped,” Hannah offered innocently.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? I’m taking you to your room right now and you are staying there until you are back to normal!” Will tugged Hannah out of the room. Their footsteps echoed through the house as they ascended the staircase. I took the solitary moment to practically faint into a chair. What had happened to my precious little baby? It was just yesterday that she was dancing and singing angelically and now she is a knife wielding demon.

A deafening roar thundered from the entry room with a series of heavy thuds following close behind. I raced out in time to see my husband crash through the bannister of the staircase and with a sickening crack, land crumpled on the floor. “Will!” I screeched, bolting to his body. But it was too late. His head lay at an odd angle, as did most of his limbs. I slid to the floor, cradling his bloody mop of brown hair in my lap. As I stroked his hair, I watched his vibrant blue eyes turn a milky gray.

Finally I looked up to find Hannah at the top of the stairs. Slowly a smirk developed on her face.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” I wailed.

“He slipped,” She shrugged and skipped off down the hall.

I buried my face in Will’s hair, sobbing uncontrollably. “What do I do Will? She’s not our Hannah. How will I get our baby back?”

“Oh she’s not coming back.” Hannah had crept up behind me. She twirled a large chef’s knife in her hand. “Look Mother, I upgraded.” That evil grin worked its way onto Hannah’s face again. I failed to understand how this imposter could so closely resemble my beloved daughter—brown curls tied with white bows, glistening green eyes, a little white dress—and yet be so twisted and wicked to kill her own father.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

“Well I’m not sweet, innocent Hannah, that’s for sure. But the real question is not who, but why. Why am I doing this you might ask? Great question. I’ve been around for quite some time and—”

“I really don’t care. You’ve killed my whole family; I suppose you plan to kill me now. Just get on with it.

“Well if you insist.” Suddenly Hannah pounced, tackling me to the ground. I barely managed to get my arms up before she started slashing at me. Blood spurted everywhere as I wrestled her, trying to get hold of the knife. My hands were so slippery that when I finally pried the blade from Hannah, it went skidding across the floor, landing right beneath the golden mirror. For a moment we looked into each other’s eyes and I saw actual fear staring back at me. I knew I could win this fight; after all I was battling an eight year old.

We jostled for the weapon, but with an elbow to her nose, I came out victorious. I gripped the knife tightly, ready to deliver the final blow. I stood tall over the girl as she cowered next to the grand mirror.

“You’ve killed my husband. You’ve killed my daughter. I’m sure you have taken the lives of countless others. It is time for you to die!”

I charged her with the knife, aiming for her heart. A smile crossed her face as she muttered, “Au contraire” and dove back against the mirror. In an instant that grin turned into a grimace of bewilderment and then a look of pure fear. Before I could comprehend what had happened I thrust the knife into her petite chest. She fell backward, gripping the knife protruding from her chest.

“Mommy?” Hannah sputtered before dying.