Spirals

the copy - 1

My own voice wavered, and my reply came out shakily, but I picked a mirror to look at and said, "You are foreign even when you steal my appearance."

The copy in the mirror relaxed its lopsided grin into a disgusted smirk. Then it sat down, watching me the whole way.

I did a good job. Right?

You would usually see your broken reflection here, right?

But it's me here now, not you, and I like how it feels to control you.

I said nothing.

The copy tilted its head slightly, took its hand that looked like mine, and patted the floor twice, and I felt my body seize up, and my throat began to close, until I could not move nor breathe. Then the copy began to tap its fingers that looked like mine in the way that I would idly tap my own, and my legs shook and gave out, and I found myself kneeling before a foreign image of myself, and something within me but not of me adjusted my limbs like a puppeteer until I perfectly matched the slouched cross-legged position of the copy across from me.

The copy abruptly quit its tapping, and the hold on my throat slackened, leaving me shaking and gulping in breaths and failing to collect myself in front of a thing that looked like me and enjoyed every second of what it saw and split its mouth that looked like mine into a warped grin.

Comfy?

I said nothing and focused on steadying my breathing and calming my nerves.

You want to know who I am.

Right?

Does the ocean ring a bell, Aiden?

I only knew one being which has ever invoked my real name, and I knew immediately what the copy meant.

I said, "Do you own the ocean?"

Ahh. There we go.

"Why did you choose to look like me?" I looked away from the copy and to the floor, watching it smile at me from the corner of my vision. "What do you want?"

Haha. Not much.

Just you. All of you.

The copy tilted its head that looked like mine and raised its eyebrows mockingly.

I have your look down. Judging from your terror.

I have your body, too. Or, at least, I have some, ah, limited control.

I saw the copy flick its fingers upward, and I felt my head being slowly lifted by something inside of me but not of me, until I was positioned to look directly at the corrupt reflection, and I couldn't resist the movement because it overpowered me with a great deal of pain when I tried.

I learn.

I learn how you like to move when you're happy. When you're angry.

When you're afraid.

I learn what makes you tick.

I learn about your origins. I learn about the details you work so hard to hide.

Like your family.

I said nothing. I hated the prospect of being known completely by something so malicious, and yet I was at a loss for words, and I could not move my head or look away because the copy was tapping its fingers.

Sometimes you don't like how you look. Right? Your mirror at home is broken. And I have a little feeling that it's not because you feel... unsightly.