Gradients

"The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. It was still a version of me, I suppose. But one that was much bolder. Darker. Angrier."

The interviewer, Shanna, listened intently as the woman continued, jotting down notes. For now, she was just letting her talk.

"At first, I thought it was just the lighting. Maybe my mindset at the time. But from then on, every time I went into my room, I had to look. And every time I did so, it was never my real reflection. It was bolder. Darker. Angrier. It even started grinning this wide, menacing grimace."

"Did anyone else see this?" inquired Shanna. The woman shook her head, gripping the long sleeves of her shirt as she twisted them.

"No. But every time this reflection - this doppelgänger - every time it and I locked eyes, it was like I could feel it practically pouring its rage into me. Its hand would twitch, and then so would mine. It would widen that sadistic smirk - and then so would I."

"Weren't you alarmed at that?" pressed Shanna, taking a moment after asking to take a sip of water from the water bottle near her chair leg.

"Yes. But I knew it all sounded so... weird. Crazy. Psychotic. It scared me - the lost lengths of time. How much anger I began to have. Especially since I didn't know what the anger was directed at; it was all-encompassing. Sheer and utter hatred that I didn't even know a person could feel. It was so much..." the woman trailed off. Shanna let the heavy silence linger before asking her next question.

"Did you look in the mirror before Cory came over?"

"Yes," the woman said reluctantly, "I did."

"And can you explain what happened after Cory arrived at your home? Do you recall what time he showed up?"

"It was still light out; maybe around 8? Cory stopped by like he said he would. I had been staring at the mirror, absolutely engulfed in this deep hatred, when he rang the doorbell. I told him..."

"What did you tell him, Jess?" Shanna urged, genuinely curious.

"I told him to come in. But... But it wasn't really me. It didn't quite sound like me, and I don't even remember speaking. I guess I must have told him to come in, and he did. He looked surprised though - I don't think he thought it sounded like me either."

"What happened then? After Cory came in your home?"

"I... I don't remember. I remember being so angry and so full of rage, and I remember turning to look at Cory. How his face grew really concerned. But once I turned to face him and his face turned so concerned... I don't remember what happened then. The first thing I remember after was seeing all the chaos in the room: everything tossed around, the blood... and Cory."

"What was his state when you found him?" Shanna asked grimly.

"He was gone. I could tell within seconds, he was gone," Jess whimpered, lip quivering. "He was my best friend. I don't know how this happened."

Jess began crying, to which Shanna offered some comfort, patting her on the arm.

"Can you believe this shit?" asked Jim, swirling his cooling cup of coffee before taking a long drink. The woman on the other side of the one-way glass could neither see nor hear him, but both he and his partner could see and hear her. His partner, Clark, shrugged dismissively.

"Not the weirdest shit I've ever heard, nor is it the first time hearing something like this," the older man drawled.

"Think she's psychotic?"

"Hm. Hard to say..." Clark began reluctantly, "She does really seem to believe what she's saying, though."

"So where's this mirror at?" asked Jim.

"Still at the scene. It's a heavy piece; wall-mounted. You wanna go take a look?"

"I mean, if she's gonna sit here and tell us that mirror's to blame for all of this..." Jim sighed, disgruntled. "I can't believe I gotta check out a stupid fucking mirror; there's a body in the morgue! Mirrors don't kill people! Woman's clearly psychotic..."

"She's got no history of mental illness or odd behavior, Jim," Clark stated, slinging his jacket over his shoulder as he stood. "Well, let's go check the scene out again anyway; maybe we missed something earlier. Besides, I wanna take a look at that mirror too, now."

A short drive later, the two arrived back at the crime scene. Taped off and under watch, they nodded to their coworkers as they ducked under the tape and headed inside.

The place was in shambles. Everyone who had seen the scene already suspected that there had to be more than Jess involved; the extent of the damages and gore were simply too much for anyone on the force to comprehend as having been done by the single occupant of the house. Jess was a small, petite woman - how could she have gotten Cory's body into the loft? Not only would she have to be incredibly strong to lift and carry her best friend's body up a ladder to the loft, but she would have to also be a contortionist in order to get Cory's body into the positions it was in. Jim could only manage a glimpse at where Cory's body had been; the eerie sight of the man's wide, dead eyes looking back at him from beneath his own feet had sent a shiver down his spine when he'd first walked in. The way his body had been handled and contorted...

Could Jess really have done that?

"Hey, Jim. Here's the mirror!" called Clark, drawing Jim out of his horrific trance. The younger man scooted off towards his partner.

Walking into Jess' bedroom, Jim immediately took notice of the large, black-framed mirror anchored solidly on the far wall. The mirror itself seemed dark - as though the glass was dingy or tinted. It was ornate - beautiful even - but it also held an aura of... something off. Something Jim couldn't put his finger on. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, and for a moment he understood what Jess had spoken of; he too, saw his reflection as something not quite him. Something bolder. Darker. Angrier.

Was it just an effect of the darkened glass?

"Shit!" exclaimed Clark. This drew Jim out of his staring match with the mirror. Jim looked around, but could see nothing else in the room. He then noticed that Clark was staring at the mirror just as he had been doing.

"Clark?" asked Jim slowly. Clark turned to look at him, eyes wide and jaw slack.

"Now, I know you're going to think it's all because of what we heard that woman say earlier, but I promise you I ain't lying - and I ain't mistaken. I think I've seen this mirror before. A lot of times before."

"Wait, what? What do you mean, Clark?"

"I've seen this mirror at other scenes!" began Clark, more animated. "The Johnson case in '87. The Grimes case in '90. The Hecklers and Larps in '92. This mirror has been at all of those - all really weird, gruesome cases too, just like this one. Otherwise unassuming "

"How could a mirror go to so many crime scenes?" Jim argued. Even as he spoke, he couldn't help but notice movement in the mirror in his peripheral vision.

"Estate sales. Yard sales. If it wasn't directly involved with a case, folks likely got rid of it when they bought a property those crimes were committed at, trying to get anything attached to those dark deeds out of their possession. It must've traveled over the whole county to wind up here from the Johnson home! But I remember it - it's a pretty distinct mirror."

"So? You've seen it plenty and never had something happen like Jess did, right? Clearly, she's just blaming the mirror for her crime!"

"No, damn it! You don't understand! I have seen the shit she spoke about. I've felt it; that all-encompassing rage. The twitchy not-quite-me reflections!" By this point, Clark was worked up, practically shouting at his partner.

"Well what do you wanna do? Arrest a mirror? None of this makes any sense, Clark!" Jim exclaimed, whirling away from his partner to pace across the room. An odd, heavy silence followed.

"Clark?" he asked, turning to look over his shoulder. Clark stood facing the mirror, unresponsive. "Clark?"

His partner continued to stare into the dark-glass mirror. Jim edged around the man until he could see Clark's face.

The man was wide-eyed, stock-still. Jim's eyes followed the frozen gaze of his partner to the mirror in front of them.

Their familiar faces looking back at them were grinning wide, bloodthirsty grins, eyes bursting with unfathomable hatred. Jim found himself frozen as their reflections reached out with their hands...

...and emerged bit by bit outside of the mirror. They loomed large over the two men as they straightened up outside of the dark mirror, paralyzing their prey with their ominous presence.

Minutes later, the police station received the second call of a disturbance at the residence that day. There they found Jim and Clark. Rather, they found Clark - and what little was left of Jim.

"Clark! Clark, what happened?!" they asked him desperately. The old man writhed and frothed at the mouth, his eyes rolling back in a horrible show of unbridled terror.

"The mirror... The mirror..." he gasped, just before his heart gave out.