Pale, slender fingers clawed the foot of the bed. I was jolted awake by the sudden weight shift—my body frozen in place as I saw a head slowly rise from below, her face being obscured by long, black hair cleanly parted in the middle, that reached her knees.

It was another night confronting Veronica, the faceless fiend I personally named and had the displeasure to meet in my room a few months ago. The first time I saw her, she took the face of my sister as she smugly looked at the lone medal that hung on the wall, snickering and shaking her head. At first, I thought someone was playing pranks on me, or perhaps I had gone crazy—until I realized this menace could take on other faces, too. 

This time, she revealed her face to be that of my best friend, Jess. In fact, I had seen her appear on Veronica a couple of times already—and each time, I found myself ever more so shaken after so many lies had been forcibly fed to me. After each ordeal, I would wake up in the morning feeling lethargic, yet boiling with hate. 

“Aww, did I wake you?” I heard her whisper mockingly in my ear, even using the choice of words and voice of Jess, albeit more sinister. 

I turned my head to see her playing the piano. It was a piece I was practicing for weeks being performed so flawlessly. I knew Jess was also working on perfecting a similar one—but hearing Veronica, masquerading as my best friend, play mine, made my skin itch. 

I kept on reminding myself it wasn’t Jess. But somehow, my mind wasn’t convinced enough after being fooled by this fiend countless times already.

I mustered the courage to speak after a while, feeling sick at this point. “What do you want from me?”

Veronica continued playing, not hearing my plea.

As much as I didn’t want to repeat myself, I wanted her to stop. I spoke more loudly. “What do you want?”

The cascade of notes from the upright piano abruptly stopped. Veronica stood up and began pacing around the room. The lights were dim, and from a distance, I could barely make out the outline of her body, let alone the face she carried.

I heard another voice come out of her mouth. It was that of my ex’s, Greg.

“England’s such a cold place. You like cold places, don’t you? Wish I could bring you there—but tough luck on your visa!” 

I felt my face heat up. I’ve always wanted to visit the UK, but he beat me to it, and eventually decided to stay there without any warning. 

And he broke up with me because of it, too. He said he wasn’t fond of long distance relationships so he threw our three years together down the drain. It came out of the blue too, which hurt more.

Veronica paced around the room, the same way Greg would whenever he was in a pensive mood. Gone was the fiend’s long, flowy hair, now replaced with the silhouette of the short, clean look my ex had. The cold wind coming from the window made the hairs on my exposed arms stand up. 

“Wish you were around too, but…you’ve got more important things to take care of.” 

“Lies! I cared about you, more than I did myself!” I jolted from the bed, triggered by the words. A flash of anger shot through my veins—slowly I was beginning to shake, unable to keep it down.

I did my best to remind myself, pretty much internally screaming, that it was not Greg who I was toe to toe with. “What the hell do you want from me tonight, Veronica?!” I yelled, tears forming from the corners of my eyes. 

The pacing stopped. I heard another voice come out from the fiend’s mouth. “Who’s Veronica?”

It was distorted, almost inhuman. But it sounded oddly familiar—

It somehow sounded like my own voice. I began to cover my ears and close my eyes shut, already having had enough of everything that had just transpired. Now sitting, I buried my head in my knees, looking for security.

Though my hearing was already muffled, I could still make out what she was saying. “Why can’t you be like your sister? Your friends? You're a no-good, try-hard!” 

I looked up to see Veronica, now taking on my face—down to the hair and freckles on my cheeks—staring right back at me, just inches away. I screamed in terror, not caring if the neighbors would come knocking. In fact, I hoped they would just so she could go away. 

“You’re not real! You’re not me!” I yelled. She screamed back, seemingly in pain—my words stabbing her sides, as she backed off, almost flying back to the other side of the room, against the wall.

I jolted from my bed, panting and sweating profusely. My cheeks were wet from the endless stream of tears. It was all a nightmare, and I immediately began to remind myself, just like the morning before, that she never existed.

I sat on the edge of my bed, taking in as much sun shining from the window as I could, to take my mind off of the night terror I just had.

But as I looked on the hardwood floor, there were clumps of hair near my feet. They were not mine.