Chapter Four: Flick

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Over an hour had passed, and nothing had happened.

Ash sat with his back to the wall in the bathroom, staring into the reflection of his eyes, one hand up over his head. Every now and again he made a beckoning motion with his fingers in the hope it would catch the attention of whatever it was.

Carefully, he undid the bandage over his face. Within seconds the scabby, angry cut in his face became visible, old residue sticking to the bandage and sutures. It truly was ugly, and the bruises were only just finally starting to fade but it ran so deep it hurt to smile. Maybe he could get used to the scar the more he looked at it although it still looked raw. He grimaced at it, finally noticing the figure sitting beside him. Half visible, but becoming more solid in the reflection as he focused on it. It had a shape, but completely devoid of features. As always he turned to look in its direction but there was nothing but its reflection to behold. He looked back at the mirror and with his raised hand, he pointed one finger to the ceiling.

After a second, the shadow mimicked him. A double reflection in the mirror. He managed to scoff a laugh at the situation, even shaking his head a little. But how would he talk to this thing? The only noise he could hear from it was dulcet echoes, and he racked his brain, looking up to his furrowed brow.

*****

They copied Splitface verbatim. They had finally summoned enough energy to manifest outside of his subconscious and they couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.

They couldn’t, however, just sit and mimic like a reflection. But what could they do? In this state they weren’t sure how much influence they could have in this world, so out of interest they flicked Splitface’s ear.

He flinched away and made a startled noise. So they could touch him. This was promising indeed. They flicked him again.

*****

“Ah!” The hand was hovering by his ear and a hot little sting happened again. What on earth? Suddenly, the realization that it could touch him terrified him. He brushed his ear quickly.

Could an abnormality in his head physically touch him? Did he imagine it completely and he’d been fooled by his mind playing tricks? Or was it a real thing standing invisibly behind him all day that he could only see in the mirror? He didn’t really want to dwell on it too much. The third flick was the final straw, and he leapt up and turned around in the direction, waggling an accusing finger at the unseen entity that he knew was there.

No! Don’t touch me! Get off me!” He glanced at the mirror, the figure sat motionless, the hand still raised incriminatingly. Ash sighed and sank back down to the floor, hugging his knees. “Who are you? Why are you in my head? Is this just because of the accident?”

He looked over his shoulder, and to his shock, the shadow was right in front of him, face to face. He reached out to find only air, and his hand went straight through like mist. He watched the shadow copy him.

A warm, lucid touch passed through his cheek. He gasped, grasping where it had touched. As it touched him, there was a glimmer, a flicker of features in the air to match where the shadow was sitting. Ash looked to the mirror and it had gone, but he didn’t want to lose what he had seen.

He dashed to the table, where all his old work lay strewn out like a makeshift map. He grabbed a pencil, finding a clean sheet of paper and began to sketch, scribbling madly before he lost the image in his head. He grabbed a blunter pencil from the bundle and shaded around the face and under the eyes. As far as he could remember, it looked female, but her eyes were black where there should have been white, and the pupils white. It was like an inverted photograph. Everything was not quite the right color, and it didn’t sit right with him, not at all.

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