"My mom always told me, ‘Mirrors can’t eat people’, when I came running to her in the middle of the…. I had many nightmares. As a child."
I was looking at my psychiatrist, Dr. Williams, who was smiling at me encouragingly. He wore light beige linen clothing, which fitted him very well. He exuded an aura of calmness, which made me want to trust him. I wanted to tell him what had happened to me. That nothing of this was my fault.
When I didn’t talk for a while, he slightly raised his eyebrows, indicating that I should continue. "But you see, she never really listened to…" There was a bird flying around in front of the window. It had such beautiful feathers.
"Timothy." Dr. Williams spoke in his deep and soothing voice. "Why didn’t your mother listen?"
I looked at him, drawn away from the bird by his question. "Well, she said I needed to be strong. That only little kids were afraid of their…" I paused for a moment to chew on my lips. "That only little kids still peed in their…" My head was itching horribly. "I need to be strong, you see. Or else I won’t make it. I will never be… You know." I started scratching my head. It just itched so much. "And I’ve been a good boy. I’ve been strong. I never told anyone anymore what was going on in my… And my mother, you know."
A cold sweat ran down my back as a sudden realization kicked in. "She is here somewhere, right? She is listening if I… It was just a joke, you know. I wasn’t serious."
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"It’s fine, Timothy. Your mother isn’t here. Here, hold my hands." He stretched out his big hands, waiting for me to take them. It took me some time, but I stopped scratching and laid my hands on his. It felt good. It helped me stabilize my turbulent mind.
"She really isn’t?" I asked sceptically. She was everywhere. She had to be here somewhere. Watching me. Always watching me if I said or did something wrong.
"She really isn’t" Dr. Williams said in his calm voice, pressing my hands gently. "Your mother died a few years ago. Remember? You told me about her funeral. She cannot be here."
Yes, the funeral. She was dead. She couldn’t watch me anymore. Right?
"I have to know Timothy." He told me while looking straight into my eyes. "I’ve been asking you what happened to the people that vanished. So what is the connection between them and your nightmares?"
This was a dangerous question. But I was safe here. There were no mirrors. I could tell him. "It has to do with everything." My voice and mind were suddenly surprisingly clear, and my thoughts only focused on what I wanted to say. "The mirror. My mother lied. Mirrors can eat people. My mirror can, at least."
Dr. Williams looked at me skeptically for a moment before his soothing smile returned to his face. "Alright, I believe you. So how about you tell me now how all of this started. How all of your co-workers disappeared. Are you ok with that?" he asked me in a slow and gentle voice.
I looked around nervously. I had to be sure that there were no reflecting surfaces in this room. I walked around for a moment, searching every nook and cranny of the room. But I couldn’t find any. The room didn’t even have windows. Just comfortable chairs with a table and a couch. Nothing more, nothing less.
I felt relieved and returned to Dr. Williams, who had been waiting for me patiently.
"I felt very nervous, and I was sweating profusely." But somehow I found the courage to talk.
"Alright." I said this while trying to swallow with a dry mouth. "I will tell you."