Reflections

It hurts. I can not stop. I must not stop.

The water is scalding it’s sending searing pain shooting along my nerves like fire under my skin. Still, I can not stop. I must not stop. Not until it’s done, not until it’s done right.

My skin is tight and cracking, the wounds sting with every movement. Stood here I can look myself in the eye, but I don’t recognise the person looking back. Somehow over the years I have become a stranger. You would thing that ceasing an action would be easy, especially when it causes this much pain. I can still feel it deep in my skin. I can not stop. I must not stop, it will get me.

There’s something different about my eyes, something not quite right. They still track me as I study them, still the same colour and size, although at the moment they are wide despite the glaring LED lights beaming down on me. The steam has mostly obscured the mirror now but there’s still a spot left where my eye still stares out at me. Disembodied and foreign, judging me. I can’t stop. I must not stop.

I watch the eye. Or more to the point it’s watching me.
It blinks, I don’t.

In a moment I am watching myself. Watching as I scour my hands, as the steam rises from the basin that’s almost overflowing from the force of the streaming water.

I’m trapped. It’s cold. Disorientated by the rapid change in perspective I reach out the the vision of myself haloed in the harsh blue-white bathroom light. I’m still scrubbing, desperate to feel safe.

This place feels wrong, I can sense its frigid callousness of it coating me, its apparent distain for me palpable. The barrier infront of me is unmoving, unyielding to my attempts to break through. Rebutting each and every blow I throw with a silent indifference to my distress. I am numb. I can not stop. It’s got me.

No matter the direction of my focus there is more of the same. More reflections, never-ending reflections. Like in a house of mirrors I am surrounded, except there is no distortion. Just perfect replicas moving in united synchronised anguish. Stood there, scrubbing and scrubbing burning pain evident on my many faces, but I can’t feel it here.

I’m consumed by this place. Swallowed whole and imprisoned. Spinning, turning, running in circles. I can’t stop. Crashing to the ground I am undone. The weight of this place is impassive pressing on me, forcing me deeper, further from reality. There’s no escape. I can’t breathe. The presence of this place is oppressive. I can’t see my reflections anymore. All of my power, my will and my strength seem insignificant against it’s profound grip.

Just inhaling a steady breath requires an amalgamation of every ounce of determination and fortitude I have left. I ground myself and push. The pressure upon me increases in spite of my efforts. It feels certain that I will succumb to this, that it’s too monumental of a force to fight. I can’t stop, I must not stop.

The force is still bearing down on me perched on my shoulders threatening to take me off balance right back into the darkness. My movements are uneasy but carefully considered, the control of my balance tenuous at best. I am rewarded by a familiar sight, still hunched over the sink. My doppelgängers still oblivious to my scrutiny, only concerned by their task.

Throwing myself into the outmost bounds of my confinement I empty my lungs and release guttural screams. Over and over again I slam into the barrier but nothing I’m doing raises the attention of the likeness before me. If I just stopped, just for a moment, I would see, I could save myself. I need to stop. I have to stop.

All of the coiled frustration in me explodes and I launch forwards with my arms outstretched. Cracks form at the point of my impact and rapidly spread letting light leak through, then heat. The caustic, throbbing heat of the water still encasing my hands. My momentum continues uninhibited and I plunge through the surface of the mirror as if breaking the tension of water from a high dive. I’m gliding through with my sights set, finding my target with considerable force that knocks my other self to the ground. Reaching out and joining our hands I look for myself in the pleading gaze looking up at me.

“It’s okay. You can stop. I have you.”

United again slouched on the floor, my hands are raw and I’m emotionally sore. I’m not sure how long I have been sitting here, my body hurts and my heart feels tired. Reaching up I find the edge of the sink and hoist myself to my feet. Unsteady but determined I raise my chin and glare into the mirror. A familiar stranger meets my eyes, I hold my ground and stare for a moment daring it’s control of me. In a swift movement my back is turned. It watches me as I set my shoulders and walk away.