It is the third time that I see a movement from the corner of my eye.
I don’t think much of it. I am wasted and on the verge of passing out in front of the television. Shouldn’t have finished that bottle of tequila.
‘That’s weird’ my sister speaks up. ‘I keep seeing something like a doorway on my right from the corner of my eye.’
‘What?’ I ask her groggily.
‘A doorway. On my right.’ she responds, slurring on the words. ‘There isn’t any, is there? Look, the door is on my left.’
She points at the only door in the bedroom we share, which, unsurprisingly, is on both of our left. I’m closest to that door since my sister had once told me that if someone broke in, I, as the big sister, should be the one closest to the door to fend off the intruder and all other perils that she had conjured up in her head that could only materialise through that doorway.
The windowless room is sparsely decorated. The rickety bed my sister and I share faces the television and all we have on our right is an old grimy mirror that came with the apartment, which our landlady claims, is an antique.
‘Go to sleep’, I tell her, convinced that, in her drunken stupor, she’s mistaken the mirror on her side for a door.
I fall asleep soon, but my sleep is not restful and I have a ridiculous dream – it’s 3.15 am, the alarm on my phone is blaring, and someone or something is dragging my sister through a doorway which is on our right. And I, instead of helping her, am scrambling to switch off my alarm.
I wake up covered in sweat, and my phone says, it’s 3.14 am.
I look up just in time to see someone looking exactly like my sister stepping into the room from a doorway which has materialised on my right, except with empty sockets where her eyes should have been, and grinning from ear to ear.