Late one night, as I stood in front of the mirror removing my makeup, my reflection started talking. I couldn't hear it, but I could read its lips: Don't use the red umbrella! I laughed. Red umbrella? I was too broke to own any umbrella. The next day, a torrential downpour trapped me at work. "Here, use mine." My supervisor, Julian, handed me a red umbrella. 1 Julian was young, thirty, successful, and handsome—the golden bachelor of the office. But all I could focus on was the red umbrella in his hand and the terrifying memory of last night. As I was washing my face, my body suddenly froze. My head snapped up against my will, locking eyes with my reflection. The "me" in the mirror seemed alive, mouthing a silent message. Fear paralyzed me. I wanted to run, but I couldn't move a muscle. I was forced to watch as my reflection repeated the warning: Don't use a red umbrella when it rains. Once the message was delivered, my reflection returned to normal, and I regained control of my body. I didn't even finish removing my makeup. I sprinted to my bedroom, buried myself under the covers, and eventually fell into a restless sleep. I had dismissed it as a hallucination until now. The red umbrella in front of me made my blood run cold. "What's wrong? Is it not good enough for you?" Julian asked with a smile. "No, it's just..." Before I could come up with an excuse, Bella, the office "pick-me" girl, rushed over and snatched the umbrella. "If Sarah doesn't want it, I'll take it! Julian is just being nice," she said, batting her eyelashes at him. "Julian, maybe we can walk together? This umbrella is big enough for two." Julian's smile didn't waver as he pulled another umbrella from his bag. "No need. I have another one." He opened his umbrella and walked away. Disappointed, Bella grumbled and left with the red umbrella. I was left alone in the lobby. Desperate to get home, I braved the rain and ran to the nearest subway station. By the time I got home, I was soaked to the bone. "Should have just taken the umbrella," I muttered, shivering as I changed. "The mirror thing was probably just stress. I'm losing it." Suddenly, my phone buzzed violently. I checked the group chat with my coworkers. They were blowing it up. I scrolled to the top and froze. A news link: "Rainy Night Butcher Strikes Again in City Park!" The thumbnail was a blurred photo of a female body. Lying next to it was the red umbrella Julian had tried to give me. 2 I clicked the link frantically. The article was sparse on details, clearly rushed to break the news. I scrolled through the group chat, looking for more information. Mike, a coworker I was friendly with, mentioned something: "They found the body so fast because the killer called the police and the newspaper himself! By the time cops arrived, he was gone." The conversation moved on, but I needed to know more. I messaged Mike privately. Me: Mike, is that news real? Mike: Which one? Me: The Rainy Night Butcher. Mike: Of course! You think I'd lie? Me: Do you know who the victim is? Mike: No idea. Just saw what was in the news. Dead end. I walked to the bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection. "Who are you?" I whispered. Silence. Just my own tired face staring back. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the fear. But the image of the red umbrella haunted me. The next morning at work, my worst fear was confirmed. The victim was Bella. Mike rushed to my desk. "Sarah! You won't believe it. The victim was Bella! It was brutal. They said her tongue was cut out so she couldn't scream, vocal cords destroyed... limbs chopped off... heart cut out..." I gagged, stomach churning. Was she killed because of a grudge, or because of the umbrella? I prayed it had nothing to do with me. The police came to interview everyone. I didn't know Bella well, so I had little to offer. I kept my mouth shut about the mirror and the umbrella. I didn't want to get involved. 3 Work was relentless, forcing everyone to move on from Bella's death quickly. I kept an eye on Julian. He acted normal, as if he had no memory of the red umbrella. Even when I hinted at it, he looked confused. Maybe I really was hallucinating from stress. A week later, it happened again. I was at the sink, ready to wash up, when my body locked up. My head tilted up. My reflection stared back. But this time, the reflection was different. The "me" in the mirror had bruises on her face. Her right eye was swollen shut, purple and angry. Was this a glimpse of my future? She mouthed the words slowly: Tomorrow night. Do not. Go home before 10 PM. She repeated it twice. This warning was even more confusing. We were in the middle of a huge project. Everyone was working until 11 PM every night. Going home before 10 PM was impossible anyway. But the bruises... Once I regained control, I examined the mirror frantically. I tapped it, tried the fingernail test. Nothing. Just a cheap, ordinary mirror mounted on the wall. Exhausted, I gave up at 2 AM. I had to be up at 7. The next day, I dragged myself to work. Everyone was too busy to notice my dark circles. Around 5 PM, Julian clapped his hands for attention. "Listen up, everyone! Upper management is very happy with our progress. So, tonight, you all get a break. Go home, rest up. Tomorrow we push hard to finish, and the day after, we celebrate!" Cheers erupted around the office. It felt like getting out of school early. But I sat frozen in my chair. Does this mean I will go home before 10 PM? 4 Everyone rushed out, eager to start their free evening. Julian stopped by my desk. "Sarah, why aren't you leaving? No need to stay late tonight. Go home." "Right, right. Leaving now," I stammered. "Be safe." He left first. I sighed and walked out of the building. Seeing everyone else so happy made me bitter. If not for the mirror's warning, I'd be rushing home to order takeout and binge-watch shows. Now, that simple joy was a death sentence. I wandered the streets aimlessly. I had no one to hang out with. My contact list was full of colleagues and clients, not friends. Loneliness washed over me. Part of me wanted to rebel. What if I just went home? Would I really die? Maybe if I locked the doors and windows... But the image of my bruised face in the mirror stopped me. I ended up in a park near my apartment complex, eating a sandwich and watching elderly people dance. Bored, I pulled out my phone to watch a show using the public Wi-Fi. Suddenly, my phone vibrated and shut down. Dead battery. "Are you kidding me?" I groaned. I looked at my building. It was an old, run-down walk-up. Most units were dark. My floor was completely black. "If only I could go charge it... Wait, what time is it?" I asked an old man nearby. "Sir, what time is it?" "Huh? No thanks, I ate already." "THE TIME!" "Oh, my son? He's studying abroad." "Never mind." I went to a convenience store. The clock on the wall read 10:03 PM. Relief washed over me. I hurried toward my building. Little did I know, the moment I left, the store owner took the clock down, muttering, "Why is this thing running fast again?"
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