Two sided, two faced

"The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own..." It was April 17th 2003, that morning, my alarm clock blared at me until, reluctently, I gave in. I stretched my tired body until it shook with energy, and quickly sprang from my bed before I had time to change my mind and fall back. I shuffled out of my room and into the bathroom to wash my face, shower, and start my day. That is how I always started my day, by cleaning up and washing myself. I noticed a crack in my bathroom mirror, it was peculiar; the mirror sits alone, there is no cabinet space behind it, where I would've accidently opened it a weird way; it's just a wall. The crack spread throughout the space like a spider's web, odd, certainly, for I had never bumped, nor hit the mirror; and I lived alone. I wanted to brush it off, and say it was nothing, but I am a woman of suspicion. So, when I got back from work that day I decided to inspect the mirror. I leaned in close to look at it and spotted the glass barely poking out at me from the enter of the crack. The glass had been punctured out toward me. But how? Spooked, and extremely confused, I grabbed a journal and began making a diary of my findings. “April 17th, 2003…” I recorded my discoveries and thoughts, and I went to bed. That night I dreamt of my hand being held by another hand, there was nothing else around, only darkness and the hands. One seemed more aggressive than the other, almost forceful. When I woke in the morning I recorded my dreams into the diary as well, I was utterly suspicious and came to the conclusion that I should write everyday as a journal entry just as precaution, against what, I did not know. I made my way hesitantly to the bathroom, weary of what I might see. Everything was just as it was last night: mirror still punctured, shelves organized, and, a piece of glass. I felt my heart drop below my stomach as I picked up the piece of broken glass from the floor; and slowly raising my head, saw a piece missing from the mirror. Behind it was nothing, complete darkness; an empty abyss leading somewhere I did not want to find. Shocked in fear, I grabbed my bad, threw on some clothes and left. I drove my car through a drive through to at least get some breakfast, and then drove to work. I pulled into the parking lot of the clinic and made my way up to the glass doors, eerily looking at my reflection. I was able to somewhat sort myself together before my clients began arriving for their appointments. First was Lana, I have been seeing her for a year now; she deals with severe depression and comes to my therapeutic practices twice a week. I was making my usual notes during the session, when something Lana said made me freeze. She said the word punctured, and broken; granted I know she could have been talking about herself. It was just the choice of words she used, were the same words I used to describe the broken mirror in my bathroom. As curious and a little freaked out as I was, I didn’t put effort into worrying about it now. Lana, to be fair, really was broken inside. However, when my next client Cole began speaking about his parents, and I heard the word reflection, I began to feel fear deep inside my soul. My breathing became off tempo, and I couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. All of a sudden I heard a road of thunder outside my window, turned my head see that a huge thunderhead just rolled in, and rain was pouring from all around the sky. After Cole’s session finished I began walking to my car, ready to go home. I caught a glimpse of myself walking over a puddle, but once I was over it, the picture in the puddle hadn’t moved. As if a snapshot had been taken, unable to free itself from the watery canvas. Fearfully, I slowly strode back over to the puddle, where the picture still lay, I stomped on the puddle, sending splashes all over my leg. And, the picture went away; I blinked mindlessly, and the crazed breathing returned. I didn’t even want to process or think about the conjuring event I just witnessed. I drove straight home, numbly passing through traffic, seemingly unaware that I was actually driving. I arrived at my house minutes later, went inside, led myself to the bathroom, and froze in horror as more broken pieces of glass lag on the floor. Shaking, I picked them up, and peered inside the abyss where the glass once lay. Staring inside for a minute, when I heard an exhale of breath. The glass dropped from my hands, shattering in the sink. I gasped harder than all my breath combine, fear painted my face, only being washed away by tears that began helplessly petruding from my eyes. I ran out of there and straight into my bed, where I curled up shaking, crying, under my cover for about a half hour, before eventually collapsing into my dreams.

I slept all through the night: hearing a sinister breathing, voices echoing at me, and once again I saw the hands, the sacred hands of a woman. I was trapped in these haunting scenes until the clock struck 5am. I woke with a jolt, got ready in my bedroom and kitchen, not daring to enter the bathroom. Once I got ready, I raced to my car faster than if my own house were on fire and drove myself to the clinic. Although I was a couple hours early, I felt much safer there than I did at my house. So, for two hours I sat mindlessly, my emotions numbing, heart racing. I lost concentration of everything around me, I did not even notice that my client had already arrived. Quickly, I scrambled out of my car and led her inside; we began our session, and I listened intently, at one point I took my eyes off and began staring out the window, when I heard her ask, “are you scared?” Only, this wasn't my client's voice, it was mine. My head turned sharply toward them, and again they asked in the familiar and disturbing voice, "are.. you..scared?" I stared back with a blank expression of intent, gripping the arms of my chair, desperatly trying not to show any sign of fear or weakness. I replied, "should I be?" My client then looked at me, puzzled, and spoke in her own voice, "should you what Dr. Coleman?" "Nothing. I'm sorry." I lied, nervously brushign it off. Now no one can tell me there isn't somehting sinister going on. Am I being haunted? Am I simply crazy? Once again my mind began to numb, until my last client came in, it was Lana again. Lana sat down across from me, and began speaking. I tried very hard to really listen to Lana's depressive antics today, carefully listening for any odd words spoken. Just as I was concentrating, a bolt of lightning struck down, and rain poured in. I sprang up to shut the window and as I pulled down the upper half and gazed out into the storm, I saw my reflection, stalking, with a huge, haunting smile pulled across her face. I turned to see if anyone was behind me, and seeing as it was clear, I turned back. My own relfection was there, it was me looking afraid, confused, and a bit intriguied. I apologized to Lana and told her I had to go; as scared as I was to go home, I was utmost curious, and I wanted to find out what, or who was follwing me. I arrived back at my house, the dwellings of these conjuring acts. I strode inside, both with courage and fear, the courage mainly being created out of fear. Stormed into my bathroom with a demanding attitude in me to see the mirror. The mirror, was fixed, it was just broken, shallow, and there used to be glass in the sink from when I dropped it. But it was whole, no sign of a break or crack anywhere. Out of no where, I became furious, enraged at the confusion and distraught this "thing" made me feel. I pounded my fists on the wall just barely missing the mirror. "What are you?!!" I screamed, "what are you?! What do you want?!!" I kept screaming and punching, and I once again pounded my fists, only this time I hit the mirror. All the glass shattered and revealed a deep abyss, I finally collected myslef to a state of whimpering instead of screaming. My vision was blurred from the tears, I could still see and sense the dark abyss; it felt cold and empty, yet I knew it lead somehwere. I leaned in, and once again, I felt the breath against my ear. I did not run, I fell back into my shower, hugging the back furthest away from the mirror. Then the sound of screaming and crying of my voice echoed around me, all throughout the room, like vultures feeding on the prey. These voices were attacking me, my mind being violated; I tried closing my eyes and covering my ears, but they didn't stop. Even as I screamed at the top of my lungs, their sounds overpowered mine. I sprinted out of the bathroom and stumbled into my kitchen, grabbing a knife out of a drawer, and I hid in a corner near my stove. Lowering my blubbering self to not be seen. A second later I could've sworn I heard a crash coming from the bathroom, but it was drowned out by another lightning bolt. My crying and breathing began slowing down, so, I picked myself up, and began walking toward my bedroom. I turned on the light and saw the most spine chilling creature; it's eyes cold, wide, not blinking. They smiled wide, and there was no movement of breath coming from their chest. We stood face to face with locked eye contact, me, and my doppelganger.