Whenever she brushed her hair, he could see the demon in the mirror.
They’d shared the apartment for as long as he could remember. Just him and her.
The first time he’d seen the demon standing behind her had been…Christ, he couldn’t remember how long ago it’d been. But it’d been standing right behind her shoulder. She hadn’t seen it. She’d just run her comb through her hair. Swish. Swish. Swish.
“Somethin’s behind you.”
She’d stared in the mirror. “Lou, there’s nothing.”
He’d looked again. Nothing. There wasn’t anything to see. Just his toothbrush and his wife.
He’d kissed the back of her neck. “I love you,” he’d whispered to her.
“I love you too, Lou,” she’d whispered, turning. “Get your teeth brushed. We’re going to the park.”
He’d taken another good look at her beautiful face in the mirror. Her eyes had peered through crow’s feet, her upper lip dented from a car accident. The scar was a reminder, every day, of what he’d lost.
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He stood over her bed. The machines kept beeping. Just a beep every so often.
Whenever her heart beat.
He groaned and shifted his weight off his hip. He hadn’t told the doctors yet. Whatever he’d done to himself—whatever the wreck had done to him—wasn’t important. He leaned over and kissed Abby on the forehead.
“I’m not going anywhere, babe,” he said. She was comatose. She might snap out of it in a few days. It might be months. It might never happen. But no matter what, he’d be here. He’d already called the base. They understood; thank God his deployment to…somewhere that started with a V…was being delayed. It helped that they were pushing the Communists back toward China, where they belonged. There wasn’t a need for an old seaman like him in the US Navy right now.
So he could stay.
Here.
With Abby.
He couldn’t tell her, though. Not until she was better. Until she could take it. He could piece the accident together. It’d been a wet night on the turnpike. He’d been driving slowly, but the headlights barely made it through the downpour. It was a ‘32 Ford like he’d seen when he was a kid.
The truck was a deuce-and-a-half military rig. It had sideswiped them? Yeah, sideswiped them. Forced them off the road. The police had found them halfway down the embankment. He’d been thrown before the rolls got too crazy. Abby hadn’t been so lucky. And their daughter?
No, he couldn’t tell Abby about their daughter.
So instead, he just sat there, holding her hand and listening to the hum and buzz of the machines. Every beep told him his wife was still fighting.
A beep. A beep. A beep. A beep.
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Beep. Beep. Beep.
He opened his eyes. A doctor stood over him. Was it Doctor…Steel? Stern? Shit, he couldn’t remember the doctor’s name. But no, this one wasn’t his doctor. This one was a woman.
They’d had woman nurses in the war, and woman nurses had helped Abigail get better after the accident, so women could be doctors as far as he was concerned. He’d just always had man doctors.
“Where’s Abby?” He croaked. God, his voice was terrible. And there was something over his mouth and nose. A mask. “What the hell is this?”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Mister Korper, you’re at Grace Memorial Hospital. You just came out of emergency surgery. Do you remember what happened? You were in the bathroom when your wife found you.”
Lou froze. Did he remember what happened? Yeah. Yeah, he did. Why did he remember that and not the name of his doctor?
“No. No, I don’t.” It’d be easier to lie. He could just say he had no idea what’d happened. That he couldn’t remember. It’d be easier than explaining the red eyes. But…would it be, though? No, it wouldn’t be. There was something wrong with him. And whatever it was, it was making it hard for him to keep the demon away from Abby.
Ah well. It was too late now.
“Alright, we’re going to talk to Mrs. Korper, then we’ll bring her in to see you, okay?” The doctor didn’t wait for a response. She just left, bustling out the door with her black hair tucked up into a funny hat. Lou stared at the door for a while. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t. His muscles just felt so goddamned tight.
He could see Abby talking with the doctor outside his room. This was just like with Doctor…shit. His doctor at the office. Except now he desperately wanted to know what the hell she was saying to Abby. And he couldn’t. The door wasn’t shut. It was cracked. People were just being quiet. Very quiet.
He felt himself drifting off to a familiar sound.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
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“Mrs. Korper, lab results are in. Your doctor prescribed an anti-psychotic, correct?”
“Yes. I was making him take them. He’d stopped fighting me on that.”
Lou smiled, still half-asleep. Abigail hadn’t found his hidden pills below the bed yet. But why an anti-psychotic? That made no sense. He wasn’t a psycho. His face wouldn’t stop itching, though. That’d drive him to the madhouse soon, but he couldn’t move to scratch it.
“Well, our doctors found less of it in his system than we expected, given that you stated he’d been taking them for weeks. It’s not rare for patients with memory issues to stop taking their medication and hide it instead. You might want to look for it when you get home or have one of the staff look if you’re not able to. Regardless, his reluctance to take his pills may have saved his life. His type of dementia—”
His heart dropped. He wasn’t going psycho. But all the little things? The slips? They all made sense all of a sudden. He couldn’t remember her name. His own daughter. And he couldn’t remember.
“—responds strangely to antipsychotics. He’s lucky he got a smaller-than-expected dose of them, but he should make a partial recovery. Expect him to move poorly. He’ll have muscle problems and kidney issues. Keep an eye on that. We’ll keep him here for a few days to ensure he recovers enough to go home alone.”
“I see. I’ll stay here, then.”
Lou smiled. The doctor didn’t sound so enthusiastic. “Ma’am, we don’t have any beds for you. Grace Memorial is full.”
“That’s fine. I’ll stay in a chair. He didn’t leave me after our accident, and I won’t leave him now.”
Lou cracked open his eyes. His wife…his beautiful wife…was standing over him. He reached out a hand slowly, and she took it. He squeezed, and she squeezed back, then sat down. “Hi, Lou. How are you feeling?”
“Terrible. Like I got hit by a train. The best, because I’m with you and you’re with me.” Lou hadn’t lied to Abby in as long as he could remember, and he wouldn’t start now.
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“So you want me to cover the mirrors up?” Abby asked. “All of them?”
“Yeah.” The idea had hit Lou like a bolt out of the blue. If the demon needed mirrors and reflections to stalk Abby, all they had to do was not have any mirrors. But destroying them…hadn’t helped. The doctor’s office hadn’t put any mirrors in his room, true. But there were too many shiny surfaces. The bathroom sink. The tray he ate off of. Even the damn piss-pot the nurses emptied for him until he could get back on his feet.
But if they could cover up the mirrors, that’d surely stop the demon.
“Alright, Lou. If you think it’ll help, I’ll cover them all up. Except for the hand mirror. I need one for myself.”
Lou frowned. “Didn’t I just explain this? It’s in the mirrors. If you have a mirror, it can get you. And I don’t know what happens if it gets you, but I know it’s bad.” He tasted something bitter in his tone, like anger. He’d never been angry with her before.
Abby looked at him. Her eyebrows seemed strange. Like she was deciding what to say. Then she nodded slowly. “Let’s cover up some mirrors.”
“And the shades stay down.”
“And the shades stay down, sure.” Abigail was up and about, covering anything that might be reflective. She draped a sheet over the hutch with the shiny silver dishes and spoons in it. His grandpa had brought the plates over from…wherever he’d been from, somewhere in Europe. They’d been a prized possession, but now they were just a way for his enemy to hunt.
The bathroom mirror and the mirrored sliding door on the shower went next. Abby got it half-covered, then frowned and walked over to the phone. “Hello, this is Abigail Korper, room 174. We need more sheets. A lot more sheets. It’s for Lou, his LBD is acting up, and I want him to be comfortable, even if it means I won’t be.”
As she talked and talked with the orderlies, ordering sheets for their room, Lou couldn’t help but feel like he’d won. And you know what? To hell with her comfort, anyways. Her comfort didn’t mean anything to him if she wasn't safe.
Safety, then comfort.