Mirrored

I'm sure everyone's thought of a world beyond the mirror. Another universe that looks every bit the same as ours, except reversed; left is right, right is left.

I never lost fascination with this world, illogical though it was. One could simply take the mirror off the wall to see...

But wait a minute. Surely if I took the mirror off of the wall, my doppleganger would do the same in his world, would he not? This idea intrigued me even more.

I became obsessed with touching this world, reaching it. This drew some criticism from my family members: my behavior was erratic, unusual. I persisted, but it seemed ever out of my reach. The mirror had to be obscured, I reasoned. The window into the other world was also a wall. Blurring the image would allow for transport, I thought.

Was I deranged? Irrational? I couldn't tell, so I pressed on.

Then, one day, I happened to enter the bathroom after someone had showered. A fine mist covered the mirror. It was perfect.

I reached out, hesitantly, not daring to disturb the surface. Then, finally, my finger reached the mirror.

Nothing seemed to happen, but then I blinked, and found myself reversed. The door had been on my right before, hadn't it? But now I found it on my left.

I smiled. I had done it.

Slowly, though, my smile faded. If I was here, surely my twin was in my realm. And then it crossed my mind that one world must be dominant, the other submissive. One existed only to copy the other, and I was suddenly afraid that I was on the wrong side of the mirror.

Just then, my hand twitched involuntarily. I panicked: was I losing control? I went to turn away from the mirror, but some force stopped me. My head turned back to face myself, and a new smile crossed my face, this one menacing. There was evil in my eyes.

My evil twin, it seemed, was now in control of both of us.

---

As the weeks went by, his rampage only worsened. It had started off with just my classes, my assignments replaced by pages full of obscenities scrawled in chaotic handwriting. He avoided showering, making sure his hold on me was not to be broken.
My grades dropped, my friends avoided me, my family was even repulsed by his actions.

And, in my world, I was forced to copy every one.

The worst was yet to come. I was slinking down the hall as usual, when Karen, sweet innocent Karen, came walking down the hall. I admit I'd fostered a healthy crush on her in years passed, but I'd never acted on it. He locked his sights on her, and I prepared for the worst.

He knocked her books out of her hands. He then grabbed her arms, forced her against the lockers, and started kissing her voraciously in front of the crowd that had gathered.

My former friend Rick finally tore him (me?) off of her, giving him a strong punch to the jaw for good measure. Bleeding, he lurched off towards the locker room.

Had I then been able to commit suicide, I would've.

He came to rest underneath one of the showers, lying in a small pool of water. He was exhausted, I was miserable. We might have stayed there forever, but I was struck with an idea: the showers.

I summoned my willpower, reaching up to the faucet. Either he was too tired to resist or he didn't care, so I was able to turn on the hot water. He decided that was enough, so we fell back down to the ground, the water still streaming out of the shower.

I waited. Tiny wisps of steam curled in the air. I prayed he wouldn't notice.

Eventually, he got up, ready to wreak some new havoc on my life. I didn't resist, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

There. A mirror by the sinks. Holding out until the last possible second, I suddenly caused us to lurch toward it. He resisted, but I kept on. I grabbed onto the sink for support. Slowly, surely my arm rose toward the misted surface. He was fighting desperately now, pulling my arm down with his whole being. With my last ounce of strength, I made contact with the mirror.

The world seemed to flip, and I was back in control. Exhausted, I slumped to the floor, slipping into unconsciousness.

---

They sent me to a psychaiatrist, of course. I didn't care. He sat across from me, and for a while said nothing.

"Tell me what happened," he finally said.

So I told him everything, every last detail and emotion. He sat in silence again, then left the room. When he returned, he brought a small hand mirror with him, covered with mist.

"Could you show me?" he asked.

I hesitated. I wasn't exactly thrilled to start this all over again, but then, what could go wrong? I'd beaten him once, after all.

Bracing myself, I reached out and touched the mirror. Almost instantly, I felt his familiar darkness taking control. I looked back at the psychaiatrist, my face curled in a sneer.

"Happy now?" my other self asked.

"Yes, yes indeed," he replied. He wiped off the surface of the mirror with his sleeve, then showed it to me.

There was no reflection: it was glass.

"I'm afraid there is no mirror world, dear boy," he said.

I couldn't hear him. A fissure had opened underneath the psych's chair, splitting him and the world in half. They started to slide apart, the fissure widening.

I fell off my chair, plummeting into the black void beneath me. The world above grew smaller before disappearing entirely.

And still I fall, hurtling through the endless recesses of my mind.