Voices in the Mirror

by Ross Turner

  But somehow he couldn’t move.

  He was so confused.

  What was happening?

  Instead, whatever it was that was restraining him, controlling him, forced him to place one eye up to the crack in the doorway and peek through, and what he saw took his breath away completely.

  He saw his mother, dear Emily, of course, as he expected. She was getting changed, ready for when her husband, Richard, returned home.

  But when she reached up to adorn a plain, white blouse, pulling it over her head, Johnathan’s eyes settled upon her exposed body. Her ribs and back were a dreadful mix of black and blue and purple, bruised and swollen terribly, battered and beaten awfully.

  Her wounds were extensive, and some looked a week or more old, while others were fresh as a new day.

  Anger welled up inside of Johnathan then, an anger that didn’t even feel like his own. But nonetheless, it built within his body, and a sudden desire to find Richard and to kill him, to make him pay for what he’d done, to beat him to death, for everything that he’d done over the long years gone by, almost overwhelmed him entirely.

  Johnathan’s body was tense and rigid, bristling with fury.

  Suddenly then the front door opened sharply and slammed shut again, signalling that Richard was home from work, though he did not call up to greet them.

  Still staring through the crack in the doorway, Johnathan saw Emily shudder and sigh deeply, holding her hands trembling to her lips.

  Beside himself completely by then, Johnathan turned on his heel towards the stairs and clenched and unclenched his hands purposefully, ready beyond all belief to dispense his decade old wrath.

  But then Maddie was there, appearing from nowhere, blocking his path, her eyes fraught with worry and recognition. She saw immediately that Johnathan had been overwhelmed once again.

  She still didn’t understand it, just as he didn’t. She only knew that her dear brother needed her.

  Sensing that he wasn’t in control, Maddie reached out a trembling hand to her brother and placed it gently on his shoulder. She smiled lovingly, and softly brought Johnathan into a kind embrace. He held her back tightly, and the relief that washed over him in that moment was unrivalled, as if he hadn’t been able to hold young Maddie for countless years on end.

  He saw her fear.

  She was terrified for him and for what he would do, and the veil slowly lifted from his gaze, and his head gradually cleared.

  Of course Johnathan didn’t want to frighten her, neither he, nor the figure from the mirror, he imagined.

  And so, he simply held his sister close, knowing, or at the very least hoping, that everything would be alright.

  Chapter Six

  Richard was in a foul mood that night. And when the three of them descended to the kitchen to greet him and to serve up dinner as a family, he didn’t speak to his wife or children as they sat and began to eat, and barely even looked up from his food.

  Johnathan’s expression could only be described as thunderous, though he held himself back with fortitude he didn’t know he had. His mother, Emily, moved sheepishly and with what seemed to be great fear. It was almost as if she knew what was going on, and even though she was powerless to stop it, somehow she thought that she only had to endure it a while longer, and the terror would eventually pass.

  Maddie sensed that something was terribly wrong, but, as of yet, had no idea what it was.

  After what felt like many long, slow hours, the meal finally ended. Johnathan and Maddie and their mother took the dishes and washed and dried them, and Richard, without so much as a word, retired for the night.

  More than once Emily splayed her hands upon the table and leant forward heavily onto her arms, seemingly supporting her exhausted and beaten frame, just desperately trying to keep herself upright. Maddie didn’t really notice, but Johnathan most certainly did, and his heart was in his mouth when they eventually finished and turned in for the night themselves.

  He watched his mother close her bedroom door with a shaking hand.

  Johnathan sat with Maddie silently in the darkness until she fell into a deep, troubled sleep, tossing and turning even just minutes after she at last nodded off.

  He held her hand for a moment longer before launching to his feet and tearing silently across the landing, straining his ears as he passed his parents’ bedroom, listening for any sound whatsoever. Hearing nothing, he continued, and within seconds found himself stood defiantly and demandingly before the mirror in his bedroom, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

  His eyes were adjusted to the dark by now, and he could just about make out the birds on the top corners of the mirror, although it took a few more minutes of focussing in the darkness to make out his own face, and even then it was crooked and distorted in the dim reflection.

  Hard as he stared however, fierce as he gazed, furious as he silently stormed, nothing the young boy could do would bring back the figure of the previous night, and he stared helplessly back at his own stubborn face.

  For hours Johnathan waited, persistent to the very end.

  But, nonetheless, he was not rewarded. The reflection standing before him did not change; it was most definitely just him, through and through.

  All that he was left with was the remnants of the terrible anger and longing to seek revenge upon Richard, though of course at this point he still had no proof other than gut instinct.

  And besides all else, it probably wasn’t even his own gut instinct insisting that his father was responsible.

  Alongside that lust for revenge however, lay also another longing. This one was just as powerful, but instead of filling him with hate, this one filled the young boy with a strange and new love for Emily and Maddie. He had always loved them, of course, they were his family. His mother and his sister meant more to him than anything else. And he would have said the same for his father, but not anymore.

  This feeling was something altogether different however, though it was completely beyond him, and hard as he tried, he found it to be quite indescribable.

  All in all, it was fairly safe to say that Johnathan was confused beyond belief.

  The next morning the confusion was still there, but alongside it Johnathan felt as though his senses were heightened far beyond any point they had ever been before. It was as if he was back in the church, at Father Peter’s Service, back where all this madness seemed to have begun. Only now, his senses were even more acute, and he felt as though he could have heard a pin drop.

  For all intents and purposes, everything was normal, but through Johnathan’s gaze, if it even were his own, things most certainly were not.

  His father, Richard, awoke and ate and left for work just as per usual. But all throughout breakfast, Johnathan felt the tension between his parents, invisible though it was. His mother moved stiffly and grimaced whenever she bent or turned or lifted plates and bowls.

  Her pain was well disguised, but from Johnathan’s eyes this morning it wasn’t even close to hidden.

  Maddie too noticed that something was amiss, but not between her mother and father, but with her brother, and her misplaced worry centred on him all morning. Having seen him veiled the day before, she barely took her eyes from him, though she said nothing of it.

  When Richard left for work he kissed Emily goodbye and smiled and bade them all farewell, with not another word. On the surface that was fine, but nothing escaped Johnathan’s attention that morning, and he saw his mother stiffen horribly when her husband kissed her, and he almost even felt the disgust and the fear pulsating from her as Richard closed the door behind him.

  Before long it was time for Maddie and Johnathan to leave also, and the second they stepped beyond the threshold of their home, seemingly indifferent to all other eyes on them now, Maddie’s barrage of questions began.

  She was unrelenting, finding every chink in Johnathan’s armour in every way that only she knew.

  “What’s going on Johnathan?” She opened. Perh
aps not the most tactful approach, but undoubtedly efficient.

  “I don’t…” He began instinctively, attempting a dumfounded cover.

  But this time it wasn’t going to work.

  “No!” His sister cut him short. “I’m nine! Not stupid!” She promptly informed him, stamping her feet as she walked. “I saw you yesterday! It happened again! You scared me! I want to know what going on!”

  Her statements and demands flowed one after another off what seemed to be a single breath.

  “Maddie…I really don’t…” Johnathan attempted, but again she wouldn’t let him finish.

  “Tell me!!” She demanded.

  Johnathan sighed deeply, finally conceding, though he had little more to tell her that she didn’t already know.

  “You’re right.” He admitted. “It happened again yesterday. But I still don’t know what it is…”

  “Why did it happen again?” Maddie immediately asked, cutting right through to the precise point Johnathan had been attempting to skirt around.

  “I don’t know, I can’t control it…” He half lied. “But you stopped it yesterday. How? What did you do?”

  His sister’s forehead creased for a moment before she answered.

  “I don’t know…” She finally replied.

  He breathed an inward sigh of relief at having avoided telling her what he’d seen.

  “I didn’t do anything…” Maddie continued. “I was…I was just there…”

  “Well it looks like that’s enough.” Johnathan replied kindly, smiling a warm smile, comforting his sister.

  She hugged him dearly and followed close by him as they approached the school, for they were already nearly there, and all too aware yet again now of the eyes all around upon them.

  An hour or so later Maddie caught her brother’s eye from across the classroom and stuck her tongue out playfully at him in an attempt to cheer him up. He smiled feebly in response, but quite obviously wasn’t as spirited as normal.

  He had far too much on his mind.

  Johnathan’s usual daydreaming was interrupted by a multitude of thoughts.

  At that exact moment his wandering mind fell to the conversation he had had with Father Peter, seemingly so long ago now.

  ‘Everybody has demons, Johnathan.’

  The old man’s words echoed through the young boy’s mind.

  ‘That’s for you to decide, Johnathan. Our demons are our own.’

  And then, for some reason, his thoughts flickered back to the memory of his mother’s battered and bruised body, blue and purple and black, and anger and rage boiled up from inside of him once more.

  He clenched his fists until they ached and paled white, and sat in a solid, unmoving silence until the end of the day, barely able to contain the rage that felt, as though it wasn’t even his.

  Johnathan did not speak on the way home, and Maddie walked beside him with concern all too evident in her eyes. His fists remained clenched and did not once relax.

  The second they walked in the door Johnathan looked in immediately upon his mother. She sat in the living room, sewing a button back on to one of his father’s shirts.

  Richard wasn’t home yet.

  Everything seemed fine.

  Relenting his rage slightly, Johnathan tried to breathe deeply. Maddie laid a hand gently on his arm, calming him slightly, and he smiled at her thankfully.

  She returned his smile and hugged him tightly before disappearing upstairs to get changed.

  Johnathan followed suit, eager to lose the rage he seemed to be holding on to so tightly.

  He changed into fresh clothes and washed his face with cold water, attempting to clear his racing thoughts. Then, for some reason, though he didn’t imagine it would make his calming any easier, he turned to the mirror and examined his reflection yet again, this time in the still clear light of day.

  Breathing heavily, he stared himself dead in the eye, his concentration focused and steady for the first time all day.

  For fifteen, if not twenty minutes, he stared at his feeble reflection, frustrated and angry and lost all at the same time.

  He heard footsteps shuffle quietly on the landing and glanced away for a second, scanning his gaze towards the door.

  Looking back almost immediately, as if he might miss something important, his breath caught in his throat, frozen and terrified.

  His reflection was gone, replaced entirely by the figure of another.

  A man.

  Johnathan simply stared for another minute or two at his changed reflection, entirely dumbfounded.

  There was no longer the image of a twelve-year-old boy stood in the mirror, but instead that of a fully grown man.

  He was tall, taller than Johnathan, and broad and looked very strong. His eyes were dark, like his hair, and they had a lifetime of experiences behind their gaze, both good and bad.

  The man said nor did nothing. He only looked back at Johnathan as he stared, the young boy’s mouth agape.

  Who was this man?

  He looked just like him.

  The similarity was uncanny, chilling Johnathan to the bone, and he felt all of a sudden as though he was having a vision into the future.

  Was he looking at himself when he was older?

  That was impossible, he thought.

  Wasn’t it…?

  The man’s frame was broad and powerful, and his wide shoulders and thick arms looked as though they housed the strength of ten men. He wore baggy brown trousers, made from thick, rugged material, and what looked to be sturdy, black boots. His thick, collared shirt was ripped and stained here and there, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his hands and forearms, strong and battered and bruised and covered in cuts and grazes.

  In his one hand he held a weathered, brown leather jacket, faded by time and clearly very well worn.

  Johnathan studied the man’s face in more detail then, and saw almost immediately that this was indeed the figure he’d seen in the mirror the other night.

  Staring into this stranger’s eyes, he saw, as he had done before, only now much more clearly, a haunting familiarity, as if he knew this man, or at least should have known him.

  But, hard as he tried, as close as his recognition came, Johnathan didn’t know him.

  “Who are you?” Johnathan eventually mustered up the courage to ask, though the words crept out in only a whisper.

  The man only smiled in response at first. He looked as much relieved as he did anything else, and crossed his arms slowly in front of him, folding his faded leather jacket in with them, and his huge shoulders pulled at his loose shirt.

  “Johnathan…” Was all the young boy’s reflection said to begin with.

  It was the first time Johnathan had heard him speak. His voice was deep and rocky and, strangely, thick with love and adoration.

  “Who are you?” Johnathan repeated, a little surer of himself this time, though unsure what else to say.

  The man smiled again before he replied and tilted his head slightly to one side.

  “Arthur.” He told Johnathan then, as if assuring the young boy that he meant no harm.

  In fact, quite the opposite.

  “My name is Arthur.”

  “Okay…” Johnathan started, his forehead furrowing now with even more questions than before. “But, who are you…?”

  The reflection that called itself Arthur laughed softly then, though the sound was deep and coarse, and he looked at Johnathan fondly.

  “Don’t worry.” He reassured the young boy. “I’m here to help you.”

  But even as Arthur assured him, every time he spoke, Johnathan felt himself speaking the words also, as if they were one and the same person; as if Arthur was a part of him.

  Arthur’s face turned very serious then and his expression told Johnathan that what he was about to say was very important.

  “You must take care of your mother and your sister…”

  “What…?” Johnathan started, bu
t even as he began to speak he raised his hand, and in turn his reflection, Arthur, raised his hand also, to quiet him.

  The whole experience was bizarre.

  “Look after your mother and sister. Look after them…”

  Suddenly then, from seemingly nowhere, the mirror began to fog over, and Johnathan’s reflection was shrouded beneath it, concealed from view.

  “No! Wait!” Johnathan cried in vain, reaching out as if that would stop it from misting over, but there was noting that could be done.

  His reflection was gone.

  Arthur was gone.

  But then, upon the fogged frosted face of the mirror, before Johnathan’s very eyes, his outstretched hand reached forward with a mind of its own, and very slowly, very purposefully, letter by letter, traced three words onto the mirror’s cloudy face.

  It was clear that the words were not his own, and instead belonged to this Arthur, whoever he was.

  But still, nonetheless, it was undoubtedly by his own hand that those three words appeared on the face of the mirror, written upon the frosted glass standing before him.

  Johnathan took a step back, his knees trembling and his breath caught in his chest, terrified.

  With his hand still outstretched he felt his fingers quivering, for though he had traced the words himself, they certainly did not belong to him, and it seemed that Arthur was more a part of him than he could ever have imagined.

  look after them

  Chapter Seven

  A sudden knock at his bedroom door broke Johnathan’s transfixed gaze, startling him into movement once again. He glanced over at the wooden door, for barely even a second, struggling to tear his eyes from the words drawn on the misty mirror.

  Almost immediately he looked back, and with that his heart sank, for the words were gone, and the face of the mirror was crystal clear. All besides the dim haziness that he was sure was just his own eyes and nothing else, he stared back at his own reflection.