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I’ve started sleeping with a blanket over my mirror. I often wake up in panic, stifling a yell because I see someone in my room.
When I am brave enough to turn on the light, it’s my mirror moving again.
The me in the mirror stands and stares all night. Sometimes she paces. Sometimes she just sits. Her hair is often messy. Does she ever sleep?
I consider removing the mirror. But that wouldn't fix anything. I still would see her in the reflection of shop windows and still water.
When I wake, I see her standing, eyes sleepless and dark. She watches me get dressed. She doesn’t even pretend to follow.
When I stand closer to do makeup, she stares. Her eyes are burning into me.
“What do you even want?” I whisper.
She reminds me of a corpse, the stillness of her.
Finally, she moves. She taps the glass. I shake my head.
“I have to go to work.”
Her fist pounds against the glass, and makes me jump. It’s silent.
Maybe I should see a doctor? Maybe something I did in my teen years made my brain wack out. Those...legal substances.
I decided to forget makeup. One day without it wouldn’t hurt. Anything to dash out the door with my bag, rather than watch my mirror self slam and scream silently against the surface.
It was so frightening, the prospect that I may be totally insane. What would they do to me? Would I be locked up, or just be put on some mind-numbing meds?
Would I have to give up my freedom? The life I had worked hard to build?
Would it be safer to seek help? Or should I just keep trying to ignore the mirrors, despite them getting more and more violent each day?
I would try to get to a doctor soon…
My work meeting was agony.
I couldn’t focus.
My boss, Dixon, was standing at the head of the table, gesticulating madly about viewership and marketing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his reflection. It was bloody, naked, and shivering.
Everyone else in the room was gone, except him. He was crouched down.
Even my reflection was gone…
“Are you listening?” Dixon said, after calling my name. It was impossible to tear my gaze away from his strange counterpart body.
“Yes,” I lied. It was a terrible, shaky lie. Dixon was silent, before continuing his speech.
Soon everyone got up to get back to work. Dixon called my name and asked me to stay. Please God, no. Not in this room with the horrible sight.
“What’s up?” He asked, edge to his voice.
“Nothing,” I said. It was difficult to keep my eyes trained on him. The Dixon in the mirror had his back facing me.
“What’s really going on. You’re not acting at all like yourself.”
I shrugged and avoided his eye line. His silence became a heavy weight on my chest.
“I’m just going through some personal…issues,” I mumbled.
“I see. If there's anything I can do to help…I need to keep my employees in top form.” He turned to look at where I was staring.
His mirror self turned to stare at me.
“I’m doing fine,” I said, overwhelmed with nausea. “I have to go.”
I gave Dixon a weak smile and quickly paced to the exit. The clear door clicked softly behind me.
I looked behind me, to Dixon.
A face stared at me, too close for comfort. My reflection, hideously bruised. I stifled a scream and jumped back.
I had to go home. Maybe to an ER.
My reflection smiled villainously, pleased with my fright. She then curled her fingers. Once. Twice. Come.
I walked stiffly down the hall, and easily out of the building without question. No one stopped to ask me where I was going.
Outside the shop glass, I could see the fire in the reflection. The city looked as though it was caving in.
She was right next to me, crusty with blood and sweat. She matched my terrifying pace.
Home. I needed to get home. I could call…someone? I’d figure it out.
She was beside me. She knew where I was going. She knew.