New Year's Eve My Boyfriend Tried to Kill Me

New Year's Eve. I was scrolling through posts on my phone when one caught my eye.

Does anyone else think this year's New Year's Eve gala broadcast is weird? The people in it are giving off this strange vibe I can't quite describe.

Replies stacked up fast beneath the post.

What do you mean? I'm watching it right now. Seems totally normal.

"Yeah, the show's a little boring, sure, but I wouldn't call it weird."

"OP, have you been up so long you're hallucinating?"

OP: "No! Have none of you noticed? It feels like the people on screen can SEE us."

"Lmao, someone's a little too immersed in the show."

OP: "I'm serious! Every time I look up, it's the same thing. The feeling is so obvious. And their smilesthey're all identical. They haven't changed at all."

"Come on, that's just how the audience always looks at those broadcasts. Holding a smile for the cameras."

"OP, maybe you've been staring at the screen too long and your eyes are playing tricks on you?"

OP: "Let me take another screenshot for you guys! Look carefully at the dancers in the center!"

OP posted a screenshot with several performers circled.

I zoomed in. Perfectly ordinary smiles. Normal eyes. Nothing out of place. The image looked exactly like what was playing on my own TV.

I left a quick comment: "I don't see anything wrong. The performers' expressions look completely normal. Are you sure you're not seeing things?"

OP replied almost instantly: "Look again! Don't just look at the screenshotstare at the live broadcast. Watch and see if they ever stop smiling."

Half-skeptical, I raised my head and fixed my eyes on the TV screen. I watched the people on it for a solid thirty seconds.

Something was off.

These people weren't just smilingthey hadn't blinked. Not once. The curve of their lips hadn't shifted by a single degree. They looked like carefully arranged mannequins.

My stomach dropped. I grabbed my phone and refreshed the post.

OP: "Well? Did you see it? I've been countingthey haven't blinked in at least five minutes!"

I typed back: "Holy crap, you're right. What the hell is going on?"

OP latched on like someone who'd finally found a believer: "And it's not just the performersthe audience is weird too. I've been watching for a while. The camera cut to the audience twice, and they were in the exact same position both times!"

More comments piled on.

"Are you two messing with us? The broadcast is perfectly normal!"

"Oh, I get it. You two know each other, right? Teaming up to troll the rest of us?"

OP: "I swear I'm telling the truth. Just look more carefully!"

Right on cue, the broadcast cut to the audience again. I locked my eyes on the screen.

It was exactly what OP described. The audience hadn't moved. Same posture. Same position. Frozen.

But everyone else in the comments insisted the broadcast was normal. The audience was normal. Everything was fine.

What the hell was going on?

My palms were slick with sweat. I snatched up my phone and called Evangeline.

The second she picked up, the words tumbled out of me.

"Evangeline, are you watching the gala? Look at the audiencethey're so creepy. They're not moving at all!"

She laughed. "Very funny. The camera's on the audience right now and everything looks perfectly fine. Are you watching a horror movie or something?"

"I'm not joking! That's really what it looks like on my end!"

"Maybe your signal's glitching. Probably just frozen. It's New Year's Evedon't go scaring yourself."

She sounded completely unconcerned. "I've got something going on over here. Let me call you back later, okay?"

She hung up.

I turned back to the TV.

My heart seized.

The audience membersthe ones who'd been facing the stage just moments agohad turned. Every single one of them. They were facing the camera now, heads angled directly toward it. Their mouths were stretched into identical rigid smiles, lips pulled too wide, frozen in place. Their eyes were hollow, empty, staring straight out of the screen.

Staring at me.

I screamed and lunged for the power button, jabbing at it over and over, but the TV wouldn't turn off. No matter what I tried, the screen stayed on.

The figures on the screen seemed to press closer, as if they were about to crawl right out. I bolted into the bedroom and crammed myself inside the closet.

Fighting to keep my panic in check, I pulled out my phone and sent a direct message to the original poster.

"Are you okay over there? The people on my TV were all staring at me and smiling just nowit was terrifying!"

The reply came instantly: "HELP! Same thing here! They looked like they were about to come OUT of the screen. I'm hiding right now!"

My fingers trembled as I typed back: "What the hell is going on? It seems like only the two of us can see thisthis is insane!"

Another instant reply, the words practically vibrating with panic: "I have no idea! Everything was normal this afternoon, and then tonight it just... changed. The way they were looking at methose eyesI'm so scared..."

I forced the terror down and tried to sound steady: "Don't panic. At least we can still reach each other and we still have internet. Try contacting someone near you right nowsee if you can get help!"

The moment I hit send, I redialed my best friend's number. The line gave me nothing but a flat, cold busy signal. I called again. And again. No answer.

With no other option, I called my boyfriend, Simon Lambert.

I was an orphan. In this entire world, the only people I had were my best friend and him.

We'd planned to spend New Year's Eve together, but a few days ago we'd gotten into a massive fight about marriage and had been giving each other the silent treatment ever since.

But when your life is on the line, none of that matters.

The call connected quickly. The moment I heard his familiar voice, I couldn't hold it together anymore. My words came out shaking, cracked with sobs.

"Simon, something's happening at my apartmentthe people on the New Year's Eve gala broadcast are wrong, they're not normal, they were all staring at me at the same time, and I'm hiding in the bedroom closet right now, I'm so scared, can you please come over right now?"

He went quiet for a beat, his voice thick with disbelief. "Babe? What are you talking about? It's New Year's Evedon't mess with me like this."

"I'm not messing with you!" Tears spilled down my cheeks and my voice shot up, raw and desperate. "It's real, Simon, they're really wrong, I'm not lying, I'm here aloneplease just come, okay?"

Maybe it was the sheer terror in my voice, because his tone dropped low and serious. "Okay. I believe you. I'm getting in the car right now. Stay in the closet and don't move. I'll be there soon."

After I hung up, I clutched the phone to my chest with both hands. The cramped space of the closet gave me the thinnest illusion of safety, but my heart was still hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.

The original poster hadn't sent any more messagesprobably busy reaching out to someone on their end.

I don't know how long I sat there before Simon's call came through. I answered immediately.

But there was no concern in his voice. Only barely restrained anger.

"Are you serious right now? You think this is funny?"

I froze. "I'm not playing aroundeverything I told you is real!"

"Oh, still keeping it up?" He let out a cold, mocking laugh. "I'm standing right in front of the closet. There's nobody in here. Are you still mad about the fight? Is that what this issome kind of prank to get back at me?"

A video popped up on my screen. He'd recorded the inside of the closetthe doors pulled wide open, the camera panning slowly across the space. Empty. A few clothes draped over hangers, a jacket crumpled on the shelf. Nothing else.

No sign of me.

I couldn't speak. My mind went blank.

He added, flatly: "Cut it out. This isn't funny."

"Nothat's not" Something inside me snapped. I fumbled to record a video of my own, hands shaking so badly the frame lurched. My face filled the screen, tear-streaked and pale, the closet walls and heaped clothes visible all around me. I sent it along with my live location pin.

"Look! I'm right hereI'm in the closet! The location says I'm here! I'm not lying to you!"

After I sent the video, the other end went quiet for a long time. When Simon's voice finally came through again, it was trembling, laced with unmistakable confusion.

"What the hell is going on, babe? You said the people on the TV looked strangelike they could come out of the screen. Is that right?"

"Yes! That's exactly what happened!" I blurted, my heart hammering. "Did you think of something?"

"My grandfather used to be an exorcist. When I was little, he told me a story."

His voice dropped low, threaded with barely concealed fear.

"He said that decades ago, some town held a New Year's Eve celebrationbroadcast live to the whole community. Something latched onto the feed. A thing called a Shadow Curse. It embedded itself in the broadcast, made the people on screen turn stiff and unnatural. It could see through the screen, could see anyone watching. And whoever it locked onto they vanished from reality. No one could see them, no one could touch them. Only other people who'd been marked could sense each other."

"A bunch of people in that town who'd been watching the livestream just disappeared into thin air. In the end, my grandfather was the one who managed to seal the thing away."

A bone-deep chill crawled through me. I could barely string a sentence together.

Simon's tone turned urgent, fierce. "Listen to me carefully. Do NOT come out of that closet. Do not make eye contact with whatever's on that screen. Grandpa told meas long as you don't look at them, as long as you don't meet their gaze, they can't touch you. I'm driving to his place right now. He'll know how to save you. Stay where you are. Don't move. Wait for my call!"

The line went dead. With shaking hands, I forwarded everything to the original poster.

His situation was the same as minehis family couldn't see him either.

Almost the instant I finished messaging him, my phone buzzed again. Simon. But this time, alongside his voice, there was anotheraged, gravelly, and steady. His grandfather.

"Listen here, girl. My grandson told me what happened to you. You've been marked by a Shadow Curse. It feeds by devouring souls and trapping them in a mirror-realm. The only way to shatter the barrier is to merge your blood with the blood of someone else who's been marked, just like you. You need to find that other person. Prick your fingers, let the blood drip together. And whatever you dowhatever you dodon't look at mirrors, glass, anything that throws a reflection. The moment you lock eyes with your own reflection, you'll be trapped in that mirror-realm forever. No coming back."

I clutched the phone so tight my knuckles ached, thanked him over and over, and hung up. Then I sent the old man's instructions straight to the poster.

We shared our locations in a frantic exchange. By some miracle, we were in the same districtnot far apart at all. We agreed to meet in the underground passage beneath the subway station downtown.

I swallowed the terror clawing at my chest and slowly pushed open the closet door. I kept my gaze pinned to the floor, pressing one hand against the wall, inching forward step by careful step.

I knew my own home well enough. That part went okay.

But crossing the courtyard, my foot caught on something. I pitched forward hard, slamming both knees into the gravel. The pain shot straight through mewhite-hot, blinding. My palms scraped raw against the ground, and tears spilled before I could stop them.

I didn't dare lift my head. I braced my hands against the rough ground and pulled myself up, teeth clenched, and kept shuffling toward the gate.

Once I was outside, I narrowed my eyes to slits, staring at nothing but the pavement beneath my feet. I stayed in constant contact with the poster, messaging back and forth in real time.

I'm out of the house. So far so good on my endnot many reflective surfaces around. How about you?

His reply came fast: Made it downstairs. Almost walked straight into a car parked on the curb. The reflection off the window flashed right at me. Thank God I looked down fast enough. My heart nearly stopped.

We kept reminding each other of the easy-to-miss hazards, calling out our positions. With every meter closer, the urgency clawed deeper. All we wanted was to meet up and survive this nightmare.

After what felt like an eternity, my fingers finally found the subway entrance.

"I'm at the subway entrance. Heading down now."

"Almost there too. The lights in the underground passage are frostedno reflections. You're safe!"

"Be careful on the stairs. Don't trip. I'll be waiting at the bottom!"

I descended one step at a time. The underground passage was lit only by dim, frosted lamps. No glass anywhere.

The knot in my chest loosened just a fraction. I quickened my pace toward the agreed-upon stairwell, and at last, rounding a corner in the passage, I spotted a figurehead lowered, walking briskly toward me. It had to be the host.

We drew closer. Neither of us dared lift our eyes to meet the other's gaze. We simply reached out, fumbling until our fingertips touched. I bit down on my own finger and squeezed out a single drop of blood.

The host did the same. Just as our crimson droplets were about to merge

A piercing wail of police sirens erupted from below, shrieking through the underground passage, bouncing off the walls in sharp, relentless echoes.

I smiled and pulled my hand back.

The game was finally over.