Remnants Behind The Mirror

Fleeting Comfort

 As expected, my memory was foggy the next day. From what I could make of the situation from yesterday, some passersby helped me back to my feet, noting my dehydration. Yet, somehow, that hadn't shaken me as much as I thought it would've. Nothing seemed to get a reaction out of me; nothing, except for Dex, but he made it hard to feel anything at all.

Eva and Kiara planned to come over, supposedly with a care package for me.

"A care package?" Dex scoffed.

I briefly took in the image of Dex in the mirror across from me; standing proud with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes. Dressed to the nines, as usual, in a tux and vest. I leaned against the bathroom counter for support, pressing an ice pack wrapped in cloth against the bruise on my face. I was below him in more ways than one, and he took that knowledge with pride.

I averted my gaze. By his standards, I wasn't worthy enough to look him in the eyes. I wasn't worthy to look at myself anymore. I didn't want to.

"They're pitying you. Poor little Syx, all bruised up again."

The ice pack crunched under my hand. My fingers numbed.

Again.

I shut my eyes, holding back the sudden bout of tears that wanted so desperately to fall. I couldn't let him get to me. The past was long gone, yet parts of me still clung to them. The various bruises had faded, but now, they were more visible than ever.

"What you think they're doing out of kindness is really because they want to feel better about themselves. You're the last person they have in mind when it comes to these sorts of things."

"How do you know th— that's true?"

Dex fell silent. I figured out early on that this meant he was thinking—or simply appearing to do so. His dark, beady eyes studied me. Nothing lay behind them. No life, no soul, nothing but a sense of dread—or perhaps that was just my ever-present sense of dread talking for me, begging for me to leave the subject be. I refused to heed its warning.

"You've seen it yourself, no? You show up in a cast, everyone suddenly pays attention to you. To you."

Dex leaned in, pressing his hands against the mirror. I staggered backward, legs trembling.

"The kid who forever remained an outcast. The kid who was always pushed around: simply the jester for everyone else's entertainment. And once that cast was gone, you were nothing to them. Who's to say the same thing isn't happening right now?"

"It's..." I shakily inhaled, trying to gain the right words. "It's not happening. I'm in a better place now. I'm safe."

"Or has everyone around you simply lured you into believing that? Into a false sense of sec—"

Without thinking, I flung my ice pack straight at Dex. It flopped forward onto the counter, laying limp. In the mirror, Dex had left, leaving my reflection behind. The bruise stuck out like a sore thumb, sickeningly green and purple as if it was a rotting fruit growing out of my head. Dark circles were ever-present beneath my eyes, and I was trembling. My legs could've given out at any moment, yet I managed to walk closer to myself.

At that moment, I was no man.

Had I ever been?

As much as I wanted to shake the thought away, I couldn't bring myself to. Dex would've gone as far as to say I was never one to begin with, given that I wasn't already doing so. I stood for a moment, watching myself just as Dex had. My doorbell chimed far off into the distance. It did so again, and I could picture Kiara frantically pushing the doorbell, hoping that if she did so enough times, it'd summon me. After some more ringing, it eventually did. I shut my bathroom lights off and went downstairs.