Chapter 1: The Missing Mirrors
My 70-year-old mom got breast reduction surgery for her 70th birthday — when she came home, dad had removed every mirror from their bedroom.
For as long as I can remember, Mom struggled with her back.
By sixty, she couldn't remain at the kitchen counter for long without pain.
By sixty-eight, even choosing a comfortable bra had become miserable.
So for her 70th birthday, she finally did something she'd talked about for decades.
She booked breast reduction surgery.
Dad wasn't pleased.
"You're perfect the way you are," he kept telling her.
But Mom wasn't doing it to look younger.
"I just want to spend whatever years I have left without hurting."
The surgery went well.
I drove her home two days later while Dad waited for us.
The moment we stepped into their bedroom, Mom stopped.
The big mirror above the dresser was gone.
So was the full-length mirror beside the closet.
Even the small vanity mirror she'd owned since her twenties had disappeared.
"Brad?"
Dad appeared in the doorway.
Mom laughed uneasily.
"What did you do?"
"You shouldn't look yet."
"The surgeon already warned me about swelling."
Dad shook his head.
"It's not the swelling."
Something in his voice made me turn around.
He looked frightened.
Mom's smile vanished.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Dad glanced at me, then at her.
"Your surgeon called while you were asleep."
My stomach knotted.
"Why would he call you?" I asked.
Dad didn't answer.
Instead, he went to the closet and pulled down an old shoebox I'd never seen before.
Mom looked at it.
"Where did you get that?"
Dad opened the box.
Inside was an old photograph, face down.
Before Mom could reach for it, the doorbell rang.
Then there was pounding.
Dad froze.
I went downstairs and opened the door.
May you like
Why is Brad terrified—and who is at the door?
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