Shane pushed his hair back, enjoying the sensation of the heated water against his scalp. He vaguely wondered if he was getting a cold – he'd been shivering nonstop for the last few days. It was only in the shower, allowing the steaming water to reach such a temperature his skin stung, that he felt truly warm. He'd been having one every morning and evening for the last few days, starting the day he'd been in the booth with Ryan.

As he got out of the shower, tousling his hair dry, he looked around his bathroom, grinning briefly. It was like a sauna in there. The air was sweltering, heavy with steam and condensation that formed even on the tiled walls.

He grasped for his glasses, but they quickly fogged up and he discarded them. It reminded him that he needed to book an appointment to the optician later that evening- despite not having had any more hallucinations, his vision still wasn't 100%. He found he couldn't view light properly. In the bright noon sunlight, he could barely see, and anything more than a squint made his eyes sting and water. Plus, he also found his vision blurred sometimes. If he looked at figures in the distance particularly intensely, they became kind of... hazy. As if the light was shining through them.

Shrugging, he began to dress quickly. Bad eyesight ran in his family – nothing unusual whatsoever about his deteriorating vision. Low body temperature though? Once the immediate heat of the shower had left him, he'd began to shiver again. He'd definitely have to go to the doctors about that.

Shane moved to the mirror. It no longer filled him with dread to look into it – he understood that the visions had simple been hallucinations, thought up by a sleep-deprived, migraine ravaged mind. He'd had no more problems with it since the last time – nearly five days ago.

He twisted the tap on, filling the sink with warm water as he lathered his chin with shaving foam. Today they were filming the Post-Mortem of the Chesterfield Carnival, and he wanted to look clean-shaven for once. Without looking, Shane wiped a window on the mirror clean of condensation as he grabbed his razor.

It was only when he placed the blade against the skin did he see it. The razor nicked his skin as it slipped from his fingers and splashed him with water. His mouth opened and closed, and then opened again, and he dropped his hand to grasp the sink's rim, allowing his knuckles to turn white.

"No fucking way." He breathed.

In the corner of the mirror, slopping upwards, someone had traced words against the condensed mirror's surface.

Remember who you are

The writing was cursive, tilted to fit the words in the corner. It was far from Shane's own style, and as that thought struck him, he whirled around.

"Who's there?" He shouted, his voice sounding far braver than he felt.

He leaned across the sink, grabbing his glasses. This time he'd actually be able to see whatever the fuck was going on.

He walked softly, his footsteps slow as he looked around. There was no sign of anyone, or anything out of place. As soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, he grabbed the umbrella left against the wall. Even if it was a weapon only against rain, it made him feel better to be gripping something.

Shane's apartment wasn't very big, so it didn't take him long to search everywhere. Under his bed, in the wardrobes, he even checked the fridge in case there was a tiny child stuffed in there. There was nothing. His door was still locked, his shoes still scattered on the doormat. All the windows were shut, the curtains swept closed. There was nobody.

Shane walked back into the bathroom, propping the umbrella back against the wall. He stared at the mirror. The condensation was still heavy, the writing very visible. He briefly considered taking a photo of it but decided against it. Instead, he swiped his sleeve across it, erasing it like a wave with etchings in sand.

***

"Hello and welcoming to another edition of Buzzfeed Unsolved Post-Mortem, a show where we answer your most pressing questions about the most recent episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved, which was the Chilling Chesterfield Carnival. All the questions we're answering today came from you guys via our ..." Shane stared unblinkingly at the camera, listening vaguely to Ryan's introduction.

He had selected his questions that morning in his Uber. He had still felt uneasy after that morning and had chosen the first few questions he'd come across. He read out the first one, which had simply asked why it had taken them so long to visit an abandoned carnival.

"I think I was putting it off for as long as possible, due to that fact it looked so damn creepy." Ryan grinned, looking at Shane for his answer. Shane shrugged, "I didn't have any input where we go, I just jump in the van on Saturday morning."

Despite trying to keep his mind off, he couldn't stop thinking about the writing. Remember who you are. What the fuck did that mean? He was Shane Madej, only child to Pippa and Derek Madaj, Buzzfeed editor and a classic douchebag-whose-actually-nice guy. There was nothing else to remember.

He was leaving Ryan to answer most of the questions. Every so often he nodded, looked serious and read out a question, but other than that he bit his lip and thought about the writing. After the first four question his phone died, so he didn't even have to read the questions then.

Around twenty minutes in, Ryan picked up his phone to read another question, before lying it back down on the table and turning to Shane. "Dude, what's up with you?"

"Hmm?" Shane turned to his co-host, running a hand through his hair.

"Your energy level is literally through the floor." Ryan was smiling, but there was an edge of concern to his voice. "Are you okay?"

Shane chuckled humourlessly, "You picked up on that huh?"

Ryan gestured to the camera, laughing. "Man, I think our viewers in Ireland can pick up on it."

Shane smiled. "I er- I didn't sleep well last night."

It wasn't a complete lie. He hadn't been sleeping well since the weekend. His dreams were full of swirling shadows, hands of darkness reaching to grab him. He'd jerk up awake several times a night, drenching in sweat and gasping, and he'd have to calm himself before going back to sleep, knowing he'd wake up gasping again in an hour's time.

"Anyway-" Shane waved his hand in the air, "enough about me, let's continue the show!"

Before Ryan could say anything else, Shane grabbed Ryan's phone to read the next question.

"Is it just me, or does Shane have completely black eyes at 21.48. The hell? #boogara #demon!shaneiscanon?!"

Shane frowned. "Huh?"

Ryan pushed his computer between the two of them, dragging the cursor to the exact time on the video.

"I don't know what, uh", he glanced at his phone, "what @boogaras4ever is talking about. Let's check it out."

He pressed play, and Shane leaned forward to watch the screen. It was towards the end of the video, after he'd come out of the hall of mirrors. Ryan was leaning over him as he sat on the steps, partially hiding him from the camera.

"Man are you okay?"

"I think I'm getting a migraine."

Shane watched as the camera changed to a close-in of his face as he said he wanted to leave, sounding almost bored. It then transitioned to a view of the carasel before Ryan clicked the pause.

"Okay, I see what they meant- "

"What?" Shane exclaimed, turning to Ryan. "I didn't see anything." He didn't know where this sudden participation had come from, only that he was suddenly buzzing with energy.

"See, look I'll try to pause it at the point." Ryan dragged the cursor over the time bar, searching for the exact second.

"Aha!" He exclaimed, clicking the mouse. "See!"

Shane leaned forward to the screen, squinting. It was a scene from Ryan's chest camera footage, currently paused on a close-up of Shane's face. It was mainly only his bottom half- the curve of his nose, his lips and his chin.

"See, check out your left eye, top corner." Ryan pointed at the screen.

Just the corner of Shane's eye was visible in the frame. And it was...

Shane leaned even forward to the screen, looking more intently.

"It sure does look black."

It was the whole eye, not just the pupil. It looked as if someone had spilled ink onto the very pupil; it was just blackness. Shane shivered, momentarily reminded of his dreams.

Ryan nodded slowly. "I'm afraid, Boogaras4eva, I can only blame lighting. As you can see, I was standing beside Shane, talking to him, and I can promise you his irises were, as usual, a poop brown."

"Hey!" Shane theatrically put his hands on his hips as he tried to calm his heartbeat. "My eyes are a luxiousious caramel I'll have you know."

Ryan looked at him, before shaking his head. "You tell yourself what you need to sleep at night buddy, but we both know they're a delicious shade of poop brown."

He turned to the main camera. "Unfortunately, that's all we have time for this Post-Mortem, but join us next week..."

Shane tried to look relax as Ryan closed the episode, but he felt himself begin to panic. Black eyes. What the hell?

He glanced at Ryan. Ryan would've noticed something like that. Surely, he'd have freaked the hell out, waterboarded Shane with holy water before calling some priest hotline. Right?

But on the other hand, it had been so dark, Ryan may not have notice. Or simply have blamed the lighting like he did now. And anyway, Shane was fairly certain he'd been staring at the ground for most of the conversation as he had tried to calm his breathing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Was he seriously, as in completely-sober-in-his-full-mental-capacities, contemplating that his eyes had really been black? Had Ryan really become the most rational out of the two of them? It was like he had said; just an odd camera angle and bad lighting. Just that.

Thethought relaxed Shane, and he smiled as Ryan bid farewell, and even managed tocrack a couple of jokes with his co-host as the crew began unplugging theirmicrophones. Ryan asked if Shane wanted to go for coffee, but Shane quicklyrefused. Firstly, he knew Ryan would begin questioning him about his sleep andmay even bring back up what he'd seen in the hall. Secondly, he really did needto book an appointment for the optician.