Boxes upon boxes fill the halls of the creaky wood. The porcelain, dirty, white claw foot bathtub drips, one two, one two. I shake my head as I step into the house, displeased for the third time today. I down the hall to see my mother in the kitchen. Her golden brown hair cascades down her back, resting on the back of her knees. My headphones rest on my head, and echo throughout the victorian dome kitchen. Minutes pass, as I sit at the marble counter, mother’s back to me. Why hasn’t she said anything about the hellish music? I think, and when I look up, her head is tilted in the most demonic way.
“Mom?” I ask as I take off my headphones, turning off my cassette, and her head seemingly turns around on her body to face me, blood down her neck running down the white dress she wore.
A scream escaped my mouth as I sat up in bed, gasping for air. My body trembled as I had hoped it was all just a dream, as the floor creaked. I look to the sleeping bag next to me, my mother sound asleep next to me. The house creepily sits still, all except me.  I rub my face, and quietly get up. Tip-toeing to the bathroom, I gingerly open the door to see c***roaches crawl up into the walls. I shake my head, “That was an image I can’t ever get out of my head.” I say as I turn to the faucet, the water off, but a faint dripping from the tub. One, two, one, two…
I splash some water on my face, and slick my hair back, and look into the mirror. In the cracked, rusted mirror, I see myself. Mucky greenish-brown eyes on pale skin with dirty blonde curls long down, usually in my eyes, but now on the back of my head like a wild bird. I look closer, for a second, and I see something else behind me. I turn, to see nothing, but when I look back in the mirror, the fiendish girl-like vision dances like a doll possessed upon strings. She had no eyes, but dark sockets where eyes once were lay upon the cracked face, while a permanent mask of horror lay forever in a truculent expression while she dances around like a ballerina in a music box.
I shake my head, but can’t close my eyes. Something about the girl looks so familiar.  I look back at the bathroom wall, the moon shining in through the glass stained window, and see her shadow, while she dances gracefully. In a beautiful bow, she leans backwards as if she is supposed to have a partner. No silhouette of a partner lies in the mirror, nor the bathroom itself.  She extends her hand and twirls before stopping from a spin and looking back at me moving her finger in a motion to lure me in. Looking back into the mirror in amazement, curiously I see a bow before a final jump. She gracefully jumps up, and as she goes to land, her body crashes, shattering all around the room, with nothing but her hand, hanging by the one string, the rest of the marionette demolished, and steam from the running water fills the tub. Water poured over the side like a waterfall cascading down the porcelain sink, and just as I notice the handle turned to the right, I make sure to turn to the left.
Just as I tilt my head up, I feel delicate, cold fingers brush past my jawbone. I presume it was her fingers dragging down my face just before I see the white, glossy fingers begin to etch into the fog in the mirror. I see the words, ‘Help Me,’ and just like that, the apparition was gone. The beautiful phantom had disappeared, and I pulled the drain chord to the tub. I doused my hands in water, rubbing my eyes, before swiftly dunking my head into the water. Droplets of water fell from my eyelashes just as I looked up again.
The fog laid on the mirror, and the letters were fading quickly but still stuck to the mirror. Just before Mom came to the door and opened it without knocking.
“Aaron!” She shouted in fright, baggy flannel worn with her hair worn in a messy bun. “Sorry, I’ll come back,” She says, shielding her eyes just before I wipe my eyes across the mirror, as the fog clears out of the bathroom through the open door.
“No, it’s okay…” I reply, wiping my hand on my jeans.
“What are you doing in here? Wasting water at three in the morning?” She says, tapping her finger on her elbow with her arms crossed.
“No, Mom, you wouldn’t understand. What I saw was amazing… I mean, it was beautiful.” I say excitedly as I look over at her. She rubs her eyes and flutters her eyelashes.
“Go back to bed, Aaron, it was a long day,” She yawns and points towards the hallway, and I follow the lavender walls to the eggshell room.
Unsure of how to help, inside my heart, I could feel her pleads, caught inside a mirror. She’s driving me to madness! I have to free her, one way or another.
I hesitate for a moment, shaking my head. I lay down again on my mat, before I hear a faint sound in the distance. One, two, one two… I open the bathroom door, with no one in sight before I turn to the hallway again. At the end of the hall, I see a woman’s shadow standing still before I go walking towards the moonlit room. Just as I turn into the doorway, I see the woman in the flesh, her skin is pale as the glass she  lived in last time I saw her. The pink dress on her has deep lines with the waistline of a ballerina’s leotard.
“Come here, free me.” She pleads, singing like a siren inviting me towards her.
“Who are you?” I croak out in fright as she tilts her head in the most unusual way.
“Come to me, and I’ll show you.” She growls nearly agitated before I turn away, and sprint down the hall. As I pass an air vent, I notice a jar of yellow liquid spilled across the floor, and I don’t stop running. I run into the bedroom where Mom lays asleep, and I hear faint laughter. Make it stop, make it stop.
I step inside the room, terrified of what could come to terrorize me. I see the mat where my mother had laid, and then I hear my cassette tapes rolling loudly into my headphones.
“Stuck on you-” The King plays on high volume. The beat plays to the dripping of the low drip-drop of the drum beating in the background. One, two, one, two, one, two… I slowly walk towards the bathroom with the tub filled with water, fog escaping the bathroom.
I hear her voice calling for me, “Aaron-” She calls louder, and louder. Until I peer into the mirror, and see her face.
“Come to me, Aaron,” She said and just as I reach inside.
“I’m going to stick like glue, because I’m stuck on you,” Elvis screams in my cassette. I look into the mirror, and pull the plug free of the sink before I take it and throw it into the mirror, glass shattering. I hear a soft sizzle after the loud blast of the mirror. Glass decorated the bathroom, and occasionally, there were pieces of porcelain decorated in paisley designs. Just as I turned to see the door, it closed behind her and-

The End.