My coworker Ashley loved playing the "crazy outspoken" card. But the weird thing was, every time she had one of her meltdowns, I was the one who got hurt. She’d go off on the boss about working late, calling him a corporate slave driver, just so she could duck out early. But somehow, I was the one who ended up getting fired. I became the office pariah everyone hated, while she somehow got praised for being "real." People started avoiding me, muttering about me being unstable, maybe even dangerous. My own parents were disgusted with me. My boyfriend, Mike, told me I should just disappear. After taking the fall for her again and again, I started thinking something was seriously wrong. I decided to dig deeper. Big mistake. Ashley and Mike cornered me, locked me in an industrial freezer, and left me to die. Only then did I finally learn Ashley’s secret. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to my first day on the job, the same day Ashley started. This time? Oh, this time things were going to be different. 1 “I’m here to work, not be your goddamn slave.” “It’s quitting time! You can’t just keep us here! You pay us peanuts, you expect us to sell our souls for this dump?” “You greedy corporate vampires! Even medieval lords weren’t this messed up!” The shouting jolted me fully awake. I realized, I’m back. I really got a second chance. Across the office, Ashley was ripping into our supervisor, Mr. Henderson. She was the new girl, started today, same as me. After just one day, I’d pegged her as brutally honest, someone who stood up against unfairness. If something bugged her, she let you know. Immediately. Just like last time. The clock hit five, and she was instantly on her feet, grabbing her bag, making a scene. “You gotta stand up to these tyrants,” she announced loudly to the open office. “Otherwise, they’ll walk all over you your whole life.” Mr. Henderson tried to reason with her, stepping in her path. Ashley just slung her trendy tote over her shoulder, ready to bolt. He started getting mad, puffing up. “Your work isn’t finished. Leaving without permission is abandoning your post. I can terminate you for this…” He didn’t even finish the sentence. Ashley shoved him – not hard, but definitely a push – right in the chest. “Look at this pathetic power trip!” she yelled. “Threatening me now?” Last time, I’d been worried she’d lose her job on the first day. I tried to calm her down, told her to just bite her tongue for now. Her response? She’d sneered at me. “People like you, total doormats? You’ll never amount to anything.” So, I shut up. Figured she needed to learn the hard way. Seeing Mr. Henderson’s face turn purple, I braced for Ashley to get chewed out, maybe even fired on the spot. But then, the impossible happened. Again. He stormed past her, rage practically steaming off him, and stopped right at my desk, pointing a shaking finger at me. “Chloe! Pack your stuff and get out! You’re fired!” I was stunned. Speechless. “Wait… what? Ashley was the one yelling at you! Why are you firing me?” I stammered, trying to make sense of it. Suddenly, other coworkers chimed in, backing her up. “I saw the whole thing, Chloe. You were screaming at him. Now you’re trying to blame Ashley?” said Sarah from accounting. “Yeah, we all saw it! How can you lie like that?” added Kevin from marketing. I wanted to scream, to argue, but their next words just confused me even more. “Ashley just complained a little,” someone else muttered, loud enough for me to hear. “But Chloe actually pushed him! She totally snapped! No wonder she got fired.” “Yeah, getting physical changes everything. She’s way too aggressive.” And then Ashley, putting on a show of fake concern, rushed over. “Oh, Chloe was just trying to… stand up for herself, maybe? I’ll go talk to Mr. Henderson, see if I can smooth things over.” She hurried off towards his office, playing the hero. My coworkers murmured about how kind and brave Ashley was. But it wasn’t me. None of it was me. Why did everyone think it was? Filled with confusion and desperation, I followed Ashley and managed to apologize profusely to Mr. Henderson, somehow talking my way back into keeping the job, at least for now. 2 After that incident, Ashley’s “keeping it real” act got even bolder. She managed to piss off practically everyone in the company. And without fail, every single person she offended came looking for me. “Chloe, how could you be so vicious?” They dumped all their anger onto me. Ashley knocked over someone’s fancy latte? The victim would “accidentally” spill scalding water on my arm later. Ashley overwatered and killed someone’s prized desk plant? The owner would passive-aggressively jab me with a cactus clipping. When Ashley deleted a huge project file someone had worked on for weeks, the coworker went ballistic, complaining straight to management. And every time, Ashley would swoop in, pretending to plead my case. “Chloe, jobs are hard to find right now. Just hang in there, it’ll blow over,” she’d tell me with fake sympathy. But I hadn’t done any of it! Why should I have to “hang in there” while people abused me for things she did? Could she… could she be setting me up somehow? That night, I went home and told my boyfriend, Mike, everything. Instead of support, he attacked me. “What’s wrong with you, Chloe? You’re getting so paranoid. Ashley’s been nothing but nice, helping you out, and you’re backstabbing her?” “Ashley’s a sweetheart! She wouldn’t hurt a fly!” I froze. Mike and Ashley… didn’t know each other. Or so I thought. “How do you know Ashley? I’ve never even mentioned her name to you before.” Mike’s face shifted, his tone suddenly harsh. “Isn’t she like, some kind of influencer? I saw her stuff online, maybe a live stream. She seems totally genuine, really kind. Not like you, flying off the handle all the time. What are you, completely unhinged?” His reaction felt so wrong. My gut screamed that something was going on between them. I started trying to discreetly find out what was happening. But I wasn't careful enough. They caught on. That evening, I walked into my apartment, and everything went black. Someone hit me from behind. When I came to, I was crammed inside… a freezer. My mouth was taped shut. And standing there, laughing cruelly, was Mike, with his arm wrapped around Ashley. “If you’d just played along, Chloe, it wouldn’t have come to this. Always so suspicious,” Mike sneered. “You probably never figured it out, huh? Ashley’s my childhood friend. Like a sister.” “And you? You were just useful. A tool.” With that, they slammed the freezer door shut. I heard the metallic rattle and clank of a heavy chain being wrapped around it, locking me in. I thrashed wildly, screaming against the tape, banging on the insulated walls, but it was useless. The cold seeped into me, deeper and deeper, until everything faded. I froze to death. 3 This time, I wasn't going to be Ashley’s puppet. Just before she made the move to push Mr. Henderson, I faked a sudden dizzy spell, crumpling to the floor. All eyes immediately turned to me, completely derailing Ashley’s planned outburst. Lying in a hospital bed later (they’d called an ambulance as a precaution), I racked my brain. Why? Why did everyone see me doing the things she did? How could they all be so convinced? Was it possible Ashley had somehow gotten the entire office in on some massive, elaborate prank to mess with me? It seemed insane, but what else could it be? To avoid the nightmare I knew was coming, I typed up my resignation that night and emailed it in. Screw that job. As for Mike? A quick "We're done" text, then block and delete. Good riddance to both of them. Let the trash take itself out. I thought maybe, just maybe, this time I could escape them, live a quiet life. But things went sideways again, fast. My mom came up from her town to visit. We went shopping. I stepped out of the mall restroom, and suddenly, right there in the crowded corridor, my mom slapped me. Hard. Across the face. In front of everyone. My head spun. I stared at her, utterly bewildered. “You… you ungrateful monster!” she shrieked, tears streaming down her face. “I raised you, loved you, and you hit me? How could I have raised such a violent child?” “From now on, you’re dead to me! I don’t have a daughter!” A crowd gathered instantly, whispering, pointing. “Oh my god, did you see that? She hit her own mother!” “Shhh, keep your voice down, she looks crazy. What if she comes after us?” I tried desperately to explain. “Mom, what are you talking about? I just went to the bathroom, I told you where I was going!” “I wasn’t even near you! How could I have hit you?” The whispers around me grew louder. “Sick! I saw her do it with my own eyes! And now she’s denying it? What a psycho.” My mom just gave me one last look, full of utter disappointment and disgust, then turned and walked away, leaving me there alone amidst the judging stares. Could this… could this be Ashley again? How? Frantically, I pulled out my phone and checked Ashley’s social media. And there it was. A video, posted just minutes ago. It showed the entrance to the restrooms. Ashley bumps into my mom, seemingly by accident. Then, facing the camera (clearly, someone was filming for her), Ashley starts laying into my mom. “Excuse me, lady! Watch where you’re going! You bumped me, you need to apologize!” My mom, indignant, fires back. “You bumped into me, young lady! And you should apologize! Are you blind?” The next second in the video… I walk out of the restroom. And I slap my mom. Hard. “You bumped her! I saw it! Apologize!” the video-me snarls. My mom looks utterly shocked, horrified. Then, the video-me grabs my mom by the hair and starts hitting her again and again. “I said apologize! Apologize!” Ashley rushes in, pretending to break it up. “Chloe! Stop! I didn’t know that was your mom! It was just an accident, please don’t hurt her!” The comments section below the video was exploding. All praising Ashley, condemning me. “Ashley is so brave, calling out bad behavior like that!” “But wow, Chloe is terrifying. Even if her mom was wrong, you don’t just attack her like that!” “Look at the rage in her eyes! She wanted to kill her own mother! People like that are dangerous.” I felt like I was going to throw up. Watching that video… watching myself act like a monster… my whole body started shaking uncontrollably. That was my mom. How could I? How could I hit her like that? So brutally? If the office stuff could maybe, possibly, have been some kind of mass delusion or conspiracy… this was different. My own mother wouldn't lie about this. And the video… that was me. It looked exactly like me. In that moment, hopelessness washed over me. Crushing, absolute despair. It felt like no matter where I went, what I did, I couldn’t escape this twisted fate. 4 The weight of it all was suffocating. Was this it? Was my entire life destined to be lived in Ashley’s shadow? She gets the fame, the adoration, the perfect life built on lies, while I become the monster everyone spits on? The feeling was unbearable. It pushed me, step by step, up onto the rooftop of my apartment building. The wind whipped around me. The street below looked so far away. Just as I leaned forward, ready to let go, a hand clamped firmly onto my arm. I jerked back, startled. Standing there was an older woman. Maybe late sixties, with sharp, intelligent eyes and an unnervingly calm expression. She looked… different. Not homeless, but perhaps living outside the mainstream. Her clothes were simple, maybe a bit eccentric. “You’ve died once already,” she said, her voice quiet but resonant. “Are you really going to choose the same path again? Do you truly want to give up?” Give up? No. I didn’t want to give up. I was furious. I was heartbroken. But I wasn’t ready to let them win. Not really. But what could I do? The woman pulled me back from the edge. She studied me intently for a long moment, her gaze piercing. “Someone’s put a curse on you, child,” she stated finally, matter-of-factly. “Something that controls you.” My breath hitched. It felt like grabbing onto a lifeline in a raging storm. I stumbled forward, grabbing her arm desperately. I sank to my knees on the rough rooftop gravel. “Please,” I choked out, tears finally breaking free. “Please, can you help me? I’ll do anything!” She watched me for another long moment, then sighed softly. “Alright. Seeing as you’re in such a state… perhaps I can help. Just this once.” She looked me up and down again, then her lips moved silently for a moment. She gave a subtle flick of her wrist, almost like brushing something away, but aimed towards my own wrist. “That bracelet on your wrist,” she asked sharply. “Where did you get it?” I looked down. The delicate silver chain bracelet Mike had given me. I tried to unclasp it, show it to her, but the clasp wouldn’t budge. It felt fused together. “My… my boyfriend gave it to me.” A sharp pang went through my chest. Mike. He’d told me over and over again, this was a special charm he’d gotten blessed for me. A protection amulet. Wear it always, Chloe. Never take it off. And I hadn’t. Ever. All this time… the source of my nightmare… was this bracelet. “There’s a binding hex woven into the cord of that bracelet,” the woman explained. “It holds a sympathetic link. That other girl, the one causing the trouble… she holds the master link, the trigger. When she commits an act of violence or aggression, the hex redirects the action, making it manifest through you, through the link in the bracelet.” I stared at her, hope surging through me. “Can you… can you break it? Remove the hex?” Her expression turned grim. “It’s been too long. The link has… rooted itself too deeply into your energy, almost into your very being. It can’t be simply undone. Not quickly, anyway.” The fragile hope shattered, leaving me aching and empty again. I slumped onto the ground, the fight draining out of me. What was the point? “But,” she continued, pulling something from a worn leather pouch at her side, “that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to be done. Here.” She pressed a small, antique-looking brass mirror into my hand. It felt cool and surprisingly heavy. “Take this. It can shield you. Keep it with you always.” 5 Back in my apartment, away from the rooftop and the strange old woman (who hadn’t even given me her name, just told me to call her Ms. Evelyn if I needed her again), I grabbed a pair of heavy-duty wire cutters. I had to get this cursed bracelet off. But no matter how hard I squeezed, the cutters couldn’t even scratch the silver chain. It was unnaturally strong. Worse, every attempt sent a wave of searing pain through my body. It felt like fire licking at my insides, trying to burn me up from within. Gasping, I fumbled for the brass mirror Ms. Evelyn had given me. The moment my fingers closed around its cool metal surface, the pain vanished. Instantly. Completely. From that moment on, I never let the mirror leave my side. Kept it in my pocket, my purse, under my pillow at night. And soon, things started to change. Ashley, apparently unaware that her curse wasn’t working on me anymore, pulled another one of her stunts. This time, she got into a shouting match with a mother in a park and ended up slapping the woman's three-year-old kid. Hard. The kid’s father saw it. He went absolutely ballistic. He didn’t hold back, laying into Ashley, leaving her bruised and sobbing on the ground. Someone filmed the whole thing, and that video went viral. This time, the video showed Ashley, clear as day, hitting the child, screaming, “Shut up, you little brat!” The comments section flipped. Gone was the praise, replaced with pure outrage. “Ashley! Wtf? How could you hit a little kid like that??” “So the whole 'sweetheart' thing was just an act? She’s actually a monster!” Ashley must have realized her usual trick hadn't worked – the blame hadn't magically transferred to me. Furious and confused, she stormed over to my apartment and pounded on the door. “Chloe! What did you do? What tricks did you pull?” she shrieked the moment I opened it. Her eyes landed on the brass mirror I instinctively held tight in my hand. She snatched it away from me, then immediately turned her phone towards me, hitting ‘record’ for a live stream. “Chloe, how could you?” she started, instantly switching to her victim persona, tears welling up. “Don’t you guys see? This mirror… it’s evil! It’s an artifact she’s using to control people!” “I knew something was wrong! I haven't been myself lately! She’s been using this thing to manipulate me, making me do things!” “I thought she was my friend,” she sobbed dramatically, “and she was hexing me the whole time!” 6 Instantly, the tide of online opinion, which had just turned against Ashley, swung violently back towards her. Her followers, easily swayed, bought her new story hook, line, and sinker. “See! I knew Ashley was too good to be true! Chloe must have forced her!” “Only a psycho like Chloe would stoop to using dark magic!” “Hitting a kid? That sounds exactly like something evil Chloe would do!” “Remember she hit her own mom? She’s clearly possessed or something!” “This is terrifying! Is there any way to stop her?” The same people who were calling Ashley a monster moments ago were now back to defending her, aiming all their venom at me. I became the villain again. Curses and threats flooded the chat, raining down on me. Ashley, basking in the renewed support, stood tall, holding the mirror like some kind of trophy. “Okay everyone, I need to be honest with you,” she announced gravely to her live audience. “I’m… sensitive to these things. Energies. The moment I met Chloe, I felt something dark around her. This mirror…” she held it up dramatically, “…it’s a tool of control. She used it on me, and who knows who else she planned to target?” “Imagine! She could commit any crime, do anything horrible, and just use this thing to blame it on innocent people! It’s terrifying!” Her words whipped her followers into a frenzy. “What a twisted, evil bitch! Trying to control people to get away with her crimes!” “If she can do that, nobody’s safe! Society would collapse!” “Someone call the cops! Get her locked up before she hurts someone else!” I lunged for the mirror, trying to grab it back while Ashley was distracted by her phone. “It’s not evil! It’s just a mirror an old woman gave me for protection!” I yelled desperately. “Ashley’s the one who put a curse on me! This mirror just blocks it! Don’t believe her lies!” But Ashley easily sidestepped me, tightening her grip on the mirror. “Still denying it?” she sneered, playing to the camera. “If this mirror isn’t evil, why are you so desperate to get it back?” “And that ‘old woman’? Probably her accomplice! Making cursed objects to help her!” “I’ve already been corrupted by her evil! Are you going to let her harm others?” Before I could react, Ashley raised the mirror high above her head and slammed it down hard onto the floor. CRACK! The sound echoed, but I felt it inside my head, like something shattering within my own skull. An unbearable pressure exploded behind my eyes. My legs buckled. I collapsed, hitting the floor hard. My body started convulsing uncontrollably, thrashing on the carpet. White foam flecked my lips. It felt like I was burning alive from the inside out. I tried to scream for help, but only garbled sounds came out. Through the haze of agony, I saw Ashley, standing over me, pointing her phone camera down. Her expression was one of mock pity and horror. “Oh my god, look!” she gasped to her audience. “The evil energy… it consumed her when the object broke! She’s lost control!” “I… I hope destroying the mirror helped her somehow. Maybe it released her?” “But honestly,” she added, a little harder, “she brought this on herself. If she hadn’t had such evil intentions in the first place, none of this would have happened.” The chat scrolled wildly with messages: “Ashley you’re so brave!” “Poor Ashley, having to deal with this!” “Chloe got what she deserved!” Ashley kept filming, occasionally nudging a shard of the broken mirror with her foot. Each time she touched a piece, a fresh wave of agony ripped through me. The pain was overwhelming, a black tide pulling me under. I coughed, a spray of blood hitting the carpet, and then everything went dark. The next thing I knew, I was staring up at the concerned face of Ms. Evelyn.
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