Remember the Mirror
Scribbled on 15 April, 2009 at about 7:55 a.m.
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You remember the mirror.
You don't know how you got there, or who you were to these people. You did know they had come to take you from this place, and you were grateful.
They spoke to you, and the language was your own, but the words were not all there. It was as though somebody had replaced all the meaningful words with gibberish. You did know that they wanted to leave, and leave quickly.
And so you followed them, as best you were able. Your movement was slow, uncoordinated. Like the muscles had forgotten what they were for. Several times you leaned on them for support. Several times they helped you along. Several times you stumbled, fell, and they rushed back to pick you up again.
They were frightened of this place, that much was obvious, though you hadn't seen another soul since they woke you. And yet they slowed to help you when they could have left you on your own. And so you trusted them.
And then...the mirror. You remember that part. It stopped you, at first, because you saw movement there. Thought it was another group of people, until you realized that it was a reflection. But how could it be? The girl in the mirror, she wasn't you. In your confusion, the same stupor you still aren't quite sure you've come out of even now, you had to look down at yourself just to double check.
No. That wasn't you at all. The girl in the mirror, she wore your clothes. But she had a black stain on the blouse that yours did not.
And the others, did they know that they looked different, too? So bright that you could hardly keep your gaze on them.
"Hey."
A word you knew. One that made sense, even. They wanted your attention, and you gave them a piece of it. They spoke rapidly between themselves for a moment, in their halfmad tongue, then spoke to you the same way. You did not know what they said, but were sure they wanted to keep moving. Couldn't they see in the mirror?
You gave them a vacant look, then turned back to the mirror transfixed. You remember thinking to yourself how out of place the girl in the mirror seemed. Lost and confused and just a little bit empty, and trying to find in your eyes something indefinable that you knew, despite not knowing, she would not find there.
And then the glass began to break. Just a little bit at a time, a spiderweb of cracks radiating out from that black stain. A few shards of glass fell out, revealing bare wall behind it, but most stayed in place. Each shard darkening the reflection that showed in it.
If you had been captivated by the image before, you were held prisoner by it now. It didn't take long for the damaged area to reach the edges of your torso, and you flinched when it did, though there was no pain. It didn't take long again for the spiderwebs to spread upward, darkening and distorting that strange face, turning away those piercing eyes.
You could not help but feel a wash of relief when the other girl could no longer look at you, though it was quickly replaced by panic when you realized that the broken glass had not spread beyond your own image, tracing a perfect, shattered outline of you. You wanted to move your arm to see if the pattern would follow, or break the spell, but you simply could not bring yourself to do so. Had the world gone halfmad, as you had suspected, or had you simply gone all-mad?
"Hey."
You were torn from your thoughts by that same voice, right in your ear now, fraught with worry. A hand on your shoulder and suddenly the image before you shifted again. In the reflection, a tendril of the mirror's break traced from your shoulder and up the arm that touched you. Raced toward the heart as though it were in a dreadful hurry, and darkened that brighter, almost glowing reflection as it moved.
You cried out, shoved him away, and flinched back, stark terror suddenly returning command of your body to you.
Both of them had stood then, startled and watching you. You realized after long moments that you were cowering.
You rose to follow again, quelling the shaking that threatened to show, and moved quickly out of the room, sparing only a fleeting glance for the mirror that had so scared you, and then only when you had far enough passed it that you could not glimpse yourself. It was not relief you felt when you noted that it was undamaged.
You did not let them touch you again.




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