The shadows in the mirror kept moving

The shadows kept moving

I'm still coming to realisation that, talking to someone is the best way to remove these memories once and for all. Unfortunately for you, I have no one else to talk with. I was never a believer in demons and ghosts, but the thought of another realm where our loved ones go when they pass is almost comforting. It means they don't get lost forever, and are waiting in a mother world just like our own. But I guess that's just a fabrication the world wants us to believe.

My life started to change drastically when my mother collapsed dead on the landing of our house. It was so sudden, and my life flashed before me in a matter of a few, short, seconds. My brother, whom I was inseparable from, was suddenly in care, and was taken in by the man we are supposed to call "dad", and I had slipped out of my family's field of view completely. They never wanted me, so I stayed away, and detached from them. I stayed in the house, since it was bought from its original owners, it wasn't going to be up for sale for at least a few months. So I sat and collected dust with the furniture.

It wasn't until the lightbulb on the landing blew, that the uneasiness of the house finally cracked my shield I had around my brain...
There was a mirror across the hall from my door. It was a tall mirror, with the top left corner missing. I never noticed it before, but suddenly looking at it now brought a sense of nausea.
That mirror was always seemingly a redundancy: It was rarely used, took up quite a bit of space, and just seemed too broke for what it was worth. But for some reason, at this moment, it drew me closer, injected me with curiosity so much, that I had no obligation to do anything other than stare at myself blankly, slowly creeping forward.
I stood hunched about half a metre away, and slowly raised my right hand. It was then I noticed... My reflection, She mimicked my movements, exactly. I don't know what I had expected to happen, it was just a mirror. It never harboured any evil spirits or demon ghost children, it was just a dusty mirror on a creaky oak frame.
A thin smirk spread across my dry, cracked lips, and I awkwardly high five my image on the glinting surface. It felt strangely warm, as if, the hand I was touching wasn't a reflection, but, it belonged to another being, another body beyond the glass. Out the corner of my eye, in the background of the mirror, a shadow catches my attention. It seemed to be what was left of the curtains, gently dancing in the winter breeze: But there was no breeze, no draft either. A strong impulse spread through my entire body, and clamped my bare feet to the ground. I leaned closer, squinting at the shadow, not wanting to turn.
I built up the courage, and slowly turned my head, and sure enough; the room was empty, far too dark for any shadows to be seen. Insomnia must've creeped up on me again, sleeping was never my strongest skill.
I turned back to the mirror, and stared into my eyes, my hand feeling warmer than before. A smile creeps across my face once more, but something was different... My other hand was on the glass. I must've switched it when I turned, I was so wound up with emotions, I don't know what was going on... I leaned back, and my reflection did the same.
"Thank you" I feel my lips whisper, though I don't know why I wanted to thank myself. But then I began to notice the changes....
My reflection began mimicking my actions again: I started to crack my knuckles: a regular habit I never forgot  to do. First my left hand, then my right, then both my thumbs.But there was something odd; my reflection copied my actions, without a doubt as it should've been doing... But it was doing then a split second before I was...

Then I saw the shadow again, in my reflections eyes...

It was pretty clear now that whatever the shadow was, it was within my reflection, becoming a part of me whilst being in another dimension  where it had no way of reaching me. But then it touched the glass, and I did too.
My hand was cold, so cold it burned, and I felt a need to break the glass so badly. My reflection was no longer mine, but it was something else: It was me, no doubt about it, but it wasn't me in control. It pulled back its left hand, closing into a fist just behind its ear. And with a silent swoop through the air, it cracked the mirror, sending a web of splinters racing away from the impact site.
It was then I new...

That shadow I saw, was inside the mirror. When I wasn't paying attention it got closer and closer....

...and switched places with my soul...

...that thing, stole my body, and is now living my life, whilst I die in here...

                        All Alone