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Mimic: The thing in my room

Eishal_Farrukh
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Aliha’s life has always been defined by rules. At home, her parents are strict but loving, her world carefully ordered: lights out at nine, doors closed, questions asked cautiously. At school, she’s the sarcastic, clever teen who knows how to survive without getting caught—but even she feels the tug of rebellion, a desire to break free and be like everyone else. But the ordinary world she knows is only a thin veil. Strange scratches appear along her hallway walls. Faint, unplaceable smells linger in her room. And when she records her nightly routines, she hears another breathing—another presence—rhythmically matching her own. As Aliha digs into her family’s past, she uncovers secrets she was never meant to know: a cult, a blood sacrifice, and a monster that doesn’t just hunt—it mimics. And the closer she gets to the truth, the more her world unravels, until the person she sees in the mirror might not be herself at all. Mimic is a psychological horror thriller about obedience, rebellion, and the horrifying question: what happens when the person you are trying to protect you is not who they seem—and you might already be the next victim?
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Chapter 1 - chapter 1

Aliha rolled her eyes as she set her phone down on the nightstand. "Another lecture about bedtime," she muttered to herself.

Her parents had rules—lots of them—but she had learned the art of walking the tightrope.

Step out of your room after nine?

Big no.

Speak too loudly?

Big no.

Ask questions that shouldn't be asked? Well… that one was a risk she sometimes took, just for the thrill.

"Aliha!" her mother's voice floated up from the kitchen, sharp but warm.

"Dinner is almost ready. Wash your hands and come down!"

"Yes, Mom," she called back, dragging her feet with exaggerated sighs.

She knew they wouldn't take it lightly if she rolled her eyes again, so she kept it to a subtle twitch.

Obedience was a delicate balance—she could bend, tease, joke—but never break.

Her father appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, his face calm but commanding.

"Homework done?"

"Of course," she replied, flipping her hair with all the sarcasm she could muster while staying within the safe zone of compliance.

Dinner was predictably pleasant: warm smells of baked chicken, vegetables, and her mother's legendary spiced rice. They teased her lightly, she teased back.

Life was predictable, orderly, and—she had to admit it—safe.

After clearing the dishes, she retreated to her room.

Put on airpods, Music on, notebook out, sarcastic doodles filling the margins.

Her parents had given her rules, yes—but they also gave her space.

Love came in small, strict packages, and she was old enough to see it for what it was.

"Rule one," she muttered, reading the note her mother had taped to the fridge: Bed by nine, lights out by ten.

She rolled her eyes again but smiled. Safe, yes, a little overbearing, yes—but she could live with it.

As she scribbled in her notebook, she caught herself grinning. Her life was predictable, her parents demanding—but it was hers. For now.

It had always been like that, from all she could remember in her memory, rules had been a part of her life...

She had to follow them...

Rule no. 1: lights out by 9pm

Rule no. 2: No shouting in home

Role no. 3: No sleepovers

Rule no. 4: No meaningless question asked

Rule no. 5: obey these rules