With my back against the side the heavy wooden desk, I braced my legs against the wall and pushed. The thing squealed as it moved over the hardwood floor before, inexplicably, coming to a stop. I shoved again, and again, as hard as I could, but it just wouldn't move another inch.

I let myself collapse on the floor, panting for air. Strands of hair were plastered to my forehead with sweat. Fuck this stupid desk, I thought bitterly as I laid there, Luc can deal with it when he gets back. In fact, he could deal with the rest of it.

I tilted my head back, surveying the room upside down. Despite being all on my own, I had gotten quite a lot done. The velvet armchairs were now in position by the window and I had arranged the mismatched chairs around the table on the far side of the room. I wasn't sure if that was how Luc wanted things, but whatever. If he wanted to change it, he could do it himself.

All that was left the tall, narrow desk and the wonky mirror. And I'd already decided the the desk could go fuck itself. If, you know, desks could fuck.

I thought of leaving the mirror too, so I could go take a nap before starting on the upstairs, but something inside stopped me. I liked the mirror; amongst all the very functional furniture, it was my one splurge on something cool. And, also, I wasn't sure if I left the task to Luc that it would get done; despite his assurances, he didn't seem to like it very much.

My phone buzzed, vibrating against the floor in the corner where I had left it. With a moan, I dragged myself to my knees and crawled over. Maybe the message was Luc, and he was finally on his way back. For once, I hoped he was bringing Tory with him; he was another able body. We could put him to work.

But it wasn't Luc, and my mood immediately lifted—forgetting the tasks and the fighting—when I saw the name.

The message was from Polly. Hey! How goes the move?

Slow, I quickly tapped out. Luc's buggered off again so I'm doing it on my own.

Her response was almost instantaneous. What a turd. Want me to bitch him out?

A giggle spilled out of me. Damn, I missed her. Nah... I'll do that myself.

Thatta girl, she replied. How's the new place tho? Feel more comfortable there?

I cringed. When I told her about our plans to move, and explained Luc's theory that living in her house might to be to blame for my anxieties, I worried that it had hurt her feelings. She said it was okay, but there had been something in her tone. But it was hard to tell over the phone...

It didn't help that I had another nightmare just this morning, which kind of made it feel somewhat pointless... But I didn't want to tell her that. It's too early to tell, I wrote back. That was mostly true.

There was a lull after I sent my message, but I could see that she was typing. It came and went twice, like she was deciding what to say. Then, finally...

Are you busy? she sent. Can I call? There's something I want to talk to you about.

My breath hitched, and immediately worry began to spread through me. No one asked to talk about anything good. My brain was quick to supply me with new fears. Was she okay? Was there something wrong? Did she find something unpleasant about her sister? I mean, more unpleasant than getting possessed...

I was in the middle of typing out a response with shaking fingers when the door opened. Expecting Luc again, I whipped around... But it was a stranger.

He was short—shorter even than Tory—wiry, and pale. His unruly mop of blond hair hung in his face, obscuring his dark-circled eyes, and he was dressed entirely in various greys.

I scrambled up to my feet. "Sorry, we're not open yet."

"I know," the kid mumbled. His voice was surprisingly low and gravelly.

"You do?" I blinked at him.

"Yeah. You're Rachel, right?" he continued, shifting the messenger bag on his shoulder.

He knew my name? I just stared at him as I tried to formulate some sort of response.

"I'm looking for Tory," he continued, as if that would pull everything together.

Something about my expression must've told him that I was still at a complete loss, because his brow knotted together. "Has Tory never mentioned me?"

I shook my head.

The knot deepened, before he looked away. "Typical," he spat, sounding absolutely furious.

I suddenly felt bad. "Or maybe he has!" I said quickly. "I don't know. He talks a lot—like a lot-a lot—so sometimes I m-miss things. What was your name again?"

"Ethan," he said, drawing his dark eyes to mind. "I'm his boyfriend."

I froze, my mind caught on that last bit. Tory had a boyfriend? Since when? I had never pegged Tory as... Well, I had never pegged Tory for anything, honestly. I usually tried to keep Tory out of my mind.

Ethan watched me like he could the thoughts play through my head. "Yeah, that's what I thought. He never friggin' mentioned me."

"I'm s-sorry," I mumbled helplessly.

"It's not your fault," he sighed, and ran his hand through his hair, finally pushing it out of his face. Finally getting a good look at his face, I could see that he was quite cute. How'd he end up with a dolt like Tory? "Anyway, I came by because he hasn't been home in the past three days and I wanted to make sure he wasn't dead."

"I'm pretty sure he's not dead. He called Luc out for a job a couple of hours ago."

"Of course, another job." He rolled his eyes.

So I'm not the only one who's getting forgotten... I felt a sudden pang of kinship. "You know... Luc said he'd be back soon, and he'll probably bring Tory with him."

Ethan looked at me like he might've raised an eyebrow, but I couldn't really tell because his hair had fallen back in his face. "Oh, really?"

"If you like," I said coyly. "You could wait here for him."

"Are you sure? You look like you're in the middle of something."

"Nah," I waved my hand the stubborn desk that was stuck at a strange angle, obviously out of place. "I'm pretty much done for today. There's just one last thing, and then I can come and keep you company. Okay?"

For the first time, a smile broke across Ethan's face, a warmth among the dreary greys. Yep, he's definitely cute and definitely too good for Tory. "Okay."

"Why don't you have seat?" I said, pointing out the armchairs by the window. "This won't take long."

Ethan quickly crossed the room and chose the navy chair that faced out into the room. "Take your time," he offered, shrugging off his messenger and digging inside. He pulled out a wide, thin sketchbook. "I can occupy myself for a bit."

"Good to know!"

Leaving Ethan be, I picked up a hammer and heavy duty nail, then went back to the bare wall.

Where would the mirror look best? I wanted somewhere it couldn't be missed. I thought of how I had planned to position the room, before the desk refused to be moved. I wanted the damn desk pushed against the wall, in front of the door that led into the back. And if the mirror was near the desk, then customers would almost have to look at it when they went to pay.

Perfect.

I angled myself, looking exactly where I wanted the desk to go. From there, I could figure out where to hang the mirror. In my mind, I pictured it, sliding along the wall into the perfect position. Keeping my eye on the exact spot, I went to the wall and placed the nail, adjusting the height a few times before I driving it in with the hammer.

As I went to get the mirror, I looked over at Ethan. He was busy furiously sketching on his paper pad. I couldn't see exactly what he was drawing, but I could tell from the confidant way his hand worked that he had some skill. I idly wondered if he'd let me look at his sketches after I was done; I loved looking at that sort of stuff.

The mirror was where I had left it, leaning against the shelves. I bent and picked up, groaning as I lifted it. I had forgotten just how heavy it was. I shuffled along, walking like a crab; the room may have been small, but with the mirror gripped in my sweaty hands, it felt like an epic journey.

"Need some help?" Ethan said, looking up from his sketchpad.

"I got it," I grunted. "Almost. There."

He chuckled and went back to his drawing.

Once I finally made it across the room, I had to put the mirror down to rest. I worried a little about not being able to pick it up again but after a few minutes and a quick stretch, I could lift it again. My arms ached as I held it to the wall, my right arm most of all.

I tried to catch the frame's wire on the nail, but it wasn't taking. My arms were really complaining now. The pain was sharpening, and I was about to give up when I heard a low murmur.

"Did you say something?" I asked Ethan. The mirror slipped in my grip and I pinned it to the wall with the rest of my body to keep it from crashing down.

"Huh?" He sounded confused.

"Rachel..."

"What is it?" I looked in the mirror, glancing back at him. He was watching me from his seat by the window... But he wasn't the only one there.

In the reflection, there were two girls standing a few feet behind me. They both wore light, faded clothing; the one with dark skin was wearing a thin dress, and the pasty girl with long, slick blonde hair—it looked wet or something—was wearing pants. In the warp of the mirror, their faces were distorted, and I couldn't quite make them out. But I could see when their skin began to wither away—

Invisible flame engulfed my scarred arm and I screamed, dropping the mirror. There was a sharp crack as it slammed into the floor. The glass split down the centre.

"What the fuck was that?" came a deep rumbling voice behind me.

Feeling faint, I leaned against the wall for support as I turned back to Ethan. He was standing now, his sketchbook scattered at his feet, and what little colour was in his face had drained away. He looked so pale that it seemed like he might start withering too.

I slid down the wall and crumpled on the floor. "I saw... I saw..." I choked. A sob was stuck in my throat.

"Those girls," Ethan finished for me as he rushed to my side. "I saw them too."

+ + +

Whoa... What do you think Rachel—and Ethan—saw?

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