Get away from the mirror

TWs/CWs: alcohol mentions, violence, panic, mentions of neglectful parents

Cecil Gershwin Palmer stared into the mirror. It wasn't an ugly mirror, it was actually quite nice. Smooth edges, the frame a pinkish-ivory colour. Cecil couldn't tell if it was deathly silent or his own screams had deafened him beyond hearing. He decided it was silent. He didn't particularly wish to be deaf at such a young age as twenty, however long twenty had and would be. The creature on his shoulder stared at his mirror eyes, rubbing the claws and black rings on his grabby little hands along his shoulder. Cecil usually liked pets, he was the guy who went to find the animal at parties, when he was invited to parties that is, but not this pet. Not this animal. Not this... creature. It's human shaped head was... uncomfortable to look at, though he'd gotten used to its tiny, blank eyes and thin, lipless mouth, grey, human-ish skin.

Cecil couldn't look away, but he wanted to leave. He wanted to get away. But even more, he wanted to know what was in the draw of the mirror table. The mirror creature opened it's mouth in a silent scream, it's long, black tongue snaking out of it's mouth, razor sharp teeth bared. Was that saliva stringed between it's teeth, or blood? It was crying again. A long guttural howl, like a baby husky screaming. Cecil winced as he realised he'd been biting down on the inside of his own mouth.

He glanced again at the table. It's chipped edges, the tarnished yet ornate brass bulb knob of the drawer hanging beneath it. He needed to know what was in the draw. He needed to know. It had been days, now, weeks maybe? He didn't know. It was driving him mad, if he wasn't mad already. The table only appeared in the mirror, but was familiar. Where had he seen it before? Cecil wracked his mind, trying to remember where he'd seen it, trying to remember anything. He could only remember one thing. "Someone's going to kill you someday Cecil, and it will involve a mirror."

His mother. He hadn't seen her in years. She'd left him, but he still missed her. If she was still here, it would all be ok. He knew it would. This creature wouldn't be clinging to his shoulder, screaming noiselessly into his ear. "Why are you crying when you don't even exist?" And another warning about mirrors, what his mother had said when he'd broken his leg on a swing set. Not comfort, not help, just warnings. He'd never gone on a swing set again. If only he'd listened to his mother's warnings. Would he be here if he'd listened? Would this been happening? Or was this always going to happen? Did he exist? If he didn't exist, why did it hurt when the creature dug it's black-ringed fingers into his shoulder?

The table's brass knob shone, almost tauntingly. Cecil realised his face was damp. He was crying, but he didn't dare move to check if the tears were real. He didn't dare move. He sniffed. He needed to know what was in the drawer. He needed to know. There was nothing else he needed. The drawer was the most important thing, it was the only thing he wanted, needed to know. But how are you meant to touch something that only appears in a mirror world? Why was the table in the mirror? Why isn't it real? But isn't it, though? Only something real could bring you so much pain, couldn't it? His questions rolled tirelessly in his mind, never spoken, no one would hear even if he did speak. He hadn't spoken yet today, though everyone he'd always met had complimented his voice. He still loved to talk, to narrate, to tell stories. His love for radio was never ending, but it had been hard to even enjoy that these days. The creature twitched a little, it's long, snake-like torso waving in the air. Cecil took in a deep, rattling breath. What was he missing? What was different? What was he doing wrong? What was he doing to prevent him opening the table? What was he doing wrong?! He glanced away from the mirror. He sighed. He couldn't do this anymore. What if he just smashed the mirror? What if he-

Cecil screamed. It echoed through the empty house. Like how a child screams when it trips and falls to the ground, feeling a great pain for the first time, Cecil screamed. He shouldn't have looked away from the mirror. The creature's teeth buried themselves deeper in Cecil's neck. Cecil went to tear the creature off, but when he moved his hands up to grasp it, it wasn't there. It was only in the mirror. He could feel blood running down his neck, warm and thick, trickling down the under collar of his shirt. The mirror. He needed to break the mirror. A bat, a baseball bat beside the mirror. He'd found it yesterday in the attic, the single reminder of that one year Cecil decided he played baseball. He didn't play baseball. He'd never been good at it. He lunged for it, and felt if not a little comfort at the feel of the heavy, smooth bludgeon resting in his unsteady hands. He grasped it tightly, and with a weeks worth of adrenaline build up, he swung it at the mirror. And it shattered.