The man in the mirror isn’t me! I’ve known it for a while now. I don’t mean in a metaphorical sense; or even using self-deprecating humor about the normal side-effects of aging. He definitely isn’t me. Sure, he resembles my physical appearance. I can’t deny the profile similarities between us but I wholeheartedly reject the alien glint in his eyes. Full stop. That sinister leer betrays the fact he’s a cunning imposter pretending to be someone else, parroting my innocent reflection and identity.
I first became aware of something ‘not right’ a few weeks ago, but passed it off as neurotic paranoia. Believe me, I know how it sounds. From this candid admission you can gauge how important it was for me to reveal the uncomfortable truth, despite the cringeworthy optics. I’m positive numerous others have questioned such whimsical thoughts. Who hasn’t wondered the same thing at least once when looking in a full length mirror? I believe it’s called ‘the imposter syndrome’.
It seemed like a worn-our movie plot but the grinning fool kept staring back at me in a way which made my blood boil with rage! It felt like he was daring me to call him out on the infuriating identity theft. He aptly mimicked my personal expressions and pantomimed the sudden movements in an admirable fashion but I knew; and he knew. The sneer of superiority on my lips was immediately repeated, but the brief delay was telling. There’s a microsecond required to observe and imitate. That’s how I knew!
I could’ve just covered all my mirrors and reflective surfaces but that wouldn’t stop the evil sabotaging my reflection, would it? A tree falling in the forest still makes a sound whether anyone is there to witness it. There was no telling what the grinning ghoul mocking me was up to, when I was sound asleep. It made sense to confront an obvious case of personal theft. Even if I didn’t understand what his game was. I’ve always been direct. I might not be able to stop him from whatever he seized my appearance for, but he would damn well know I was fully aware of it, AND was documenting what I witnessed. That was highly important, as you’ll come to understand what transpired later.
When I awoke, I was shocked to see him standing there, covered in dried blood! It was disgusting. What had he done? Then the dark truth dawned on me about his underlying motives. He’d seized my appearance to be able to commit horrible, violent crimes, and then have me to blame as a patsy! Any eyewitnesses would immediately finger me as the culprit, and I couldn’t even deny it. This lunatic looked just like me! Sheesh. I was trapped by the clever ploy and worried I wouldn’t be able to convince authorities I was innocent.
From this highly-compromised position, I was left with little choice other than to help cover up his unspeakable deeds. I could see no other recourse at the time but to be complicit, and that infuriated me beyond measure. By washing off the blood and destroying the evidence, I was an accessory to heaven knows what horrendous acts! I wanted to smash the mirror in frustration but doing so wouldn’t change what had been done, or what he would continue to do. I faced him that morning with rising scorn and wrath, while equally hating myself for giving in to the web of blackmail.
Devastatingly, the news was filled with horrible stories about a string of local, unsolved crimes! I didn’t know for sure it was him, but in my heart I KNEW. After too many occasions of cleaning up his violent messes, I decided I’d had enough. No amount of excuses could wash away my guilt for being involved in helping him cover them up. He couldn’t keep getting away with those atrocities! I needed to stop protecting myself like a coward and act, before anything else occurred. It was in the public’s best interest that he be stopped; even if I went to prison myself for my small part of it. Maybe the court would grant me leniency. I had to try.
I spent a couple of days planning how I might be able to stop or capture him. By then, I think he realized I was up to something but kept playing the part. Still imitating my every move in front of me. Still grinning like a deranged fool. I have to give him credit though. He was fully dedicated to ‘the role’. It was startling how authentic he appeared. Since my imposter was so committed to pretending to be me, I always had the first move! That is a powerful tool I took full possession of. He had to do exactly what I did! His determination to stay in character gave me newfound power over him, which I’m sure he resented deeply.
For hours I stood there, forcing him to follow my every move and silly little gesture. Every exaggerated expression and dramatic pose was imitated perfectly. I thrilled at how he must’ve hated the extended period of forced compliance. I hoped he would be so exhausted by the rigorous marathon that he wouldn’t have the energy to harm anyone else. I believe my efforts worked that night, but it wasn’t a sustainable plan. A killer like him has to kill. I had to capture my doppelgänger alive, and then take him directly to the police.
I finally figured a way to get him the hard justice he deserved. I went to my garage and pulled out a Philips head screwdriver from the toolbox. He had no idea what I’d planned to do! I was so excited! I met him in the bathroom mirror and smiled innocently for a few seconds. I detected a rising hint of worry in his expression but it was subtle. I wanted this inhuman ghoul to be absolutely terrified of what I was about to do.
I raised the screwdriver and started taking out the screws holding up the mirror corner mounts. After taking out the top two, I had to be careful, or the whole thing would topple away from the wall and shatter. The best part was, HE KNEW what I was doing by then, but had to help! I couldn’t believe it! Even then he didn’t break character but I knew he was dying inside. He had to be. My plan was brilliant and he’d fallen into my trap this time. I unscrewed the bottom anchors and carefully carried it to my car. I figured he would try to make me break it, but I was ready for any type of sabotage. Although he tried to trip me a couple times, I caught myself. The mirror didn’t break.
All along the way, I smiled. Then I laughed. First it was a mild chuckle, but nearing the police station, I was roaring. People around me in traffic looked at me like I was a lunatic for being so externally animated, for no obvious reason. That’s ok. They had no idea who I’d ensnared, nor how clever I’d been in my plan to bring the heinous perpetrator to justice.
I figured at that point he would crack in desperation and do whatever it required to escape. I had to be very vigilant. There was a large flight of steps up to the precinct door. I’d surely stumble carrying that heavy, awkward piece of glass. I decided to leave it in the car for safety. I’d ask for an armed security detail to bring him in. With an official escort, he couldn’t get away. It seemed fool-proof but I failed to consider how cunning my reflected nemesis is.
I told the apathetic officer at the front desk I had urgent information about the violent crime wave affecting our city. He seemed pretty jaded and skeptical. That was until I told him I happened to have the culprit captured in my vehicle. He immediately perked up, hearing that. When I explained I needed their assistance bringing him inside, the officer paged a couple of jailers to assist in the arrest.
Once outside, everything fell apart. They seemed genuinely perplexed when I told them the killer was in the back seat, trapped inside the mirror. They looked at each other like I had lost my marbles. I tried explaining everything clearly to them but they didn’t seem the least bit interested in hearing my testimony about him. Instead, they insisted I come inside to give my own statement. I didn’t mind, but I was terrified he would somehow get away while I was sequestered in the detective’s office.
Tearfully, I confessed my small part in covering up his unspeakable crimes. They nodded politely as I unburdened myself, but I overheard one of them say something strange which eluded me. Something about: ‘non com pos mentis’. Never having been in legal trouble, I never knew much of the police jargon they use. Then they asked me if they had my permission to search the house for more evidence. Realizing my willingness to help in all ways in the investigation would look quite favorable to the prosecutor, I told them they had my full permission. Despite the troubling circumstances, I had to smile again. I was convinced, everything would soon be better.
Sadly, things really didn’t go as planned. They were only pretending to believe me! I was immediately placed into a detention cell and assigned a case worker. Dr. Barkley introduced himself and explained he was going to evaluate my psychological state. It was patently offensive. I’m as lucid and stable as anyone. I did admit to him and the other therapists that what I confessed was extremely hard to believe. Regardless, I maintained my story was absolutely real. Their stoic, blank stares betrayed their unfiltered thoughts about me and their judgment. No matter how many times I repeated my sworn testimony, it failed to persuade any of them. ‘He’ had won.
I was labeled ‘unfit to stand trial’ and moved to a long term care facility in another city. If there was any upshot to the terrifying ordeal, it was that mirrors aren’t allowed at the hospital. I’d never have to witness his smug, mocking face again. That alone was a glorious takeaway and ‘win’, but even sweeter vindication was on the horizon.
I had my very first visitor after more than six months of being committed. Of all people who might request to meet me, I would’ve never guessed I’d see the original case detective again on the other side of the glass. He looked tired and a bit perplexed. His initial statements were cordial and vague. They were even apologetic, in a subtle way. I could tell he was trying to bring himself to ask me something but it was difficult for him. He hemmed and hawed a bit. Dancing around what was on his mind. Finally I got frustrated and demanded he tell me exactly what he came to see me about.
“A few days after you were taken into custody, a string of new crimes were committed close to the original murder sites. Like the earlier ones, they match the exact profile as what you were arrested for. Despite all the undeniable similarities, the District Attorney insisted you were the sole culprit. His office insisted it was either a copycat killer doing the new crimes, or you had an accomplice who was killing people to cast doubt on your guilt. We reviewed the cases and investigated the forensic evidence at the scenes.”
I listened to his uncomfortable admission in impatient silence. I knew he wasn’t yet done but it was torture waiting for him to divulge the rest of the details. There was something big coming. I could tell. It was clearly hard for him to admit they were wrong about me. Harder still, was what he revealed next.
“One of the crime scenes happened to have a hidden HD surveillance camera. It was a huge break in the case! The lead detective was eager to download the footage and grab screen shots of the suspect so we could finally ID the lunatic and stop him from torturing and killing more innocent people. As the footage was reviewed, we did a double take. Just as you’d told us, the killer looked exactly like you! None of us could believe it! First they checked security records here at the hospital to verify you were locked up during all the subsequent murders. Then they pulled detailed background checks to confirm you didn’t have an identical twin.”
I just started at him in burning contempt through the thick glass. I was indefinitely committed to the state mental ward for horrific crimes I didn’t commit, and here was this jerk privately acknowledging my innocence. It was all I could do, to not flail angrily at him through the window.
“Look, I know you are furious about this! I apologize for doubting you. I totally understand your anger but no one in their right mind would’ve accepted that some inhuman ‘thing’ could imitate your appearance and pin serial killings on you. None of us would have bought that. It came across like the ravings of a madman. Law enforcement officials deal in facts and reality. The DA is stubborn. He still won’t consider having you released, even having witnessed the footage, himself. He said that even if you weren’t the actual killer, you were ‘unstable’ for believing what you told us, and you need to be here; to get help for your ‘delusions’.”
That was it! Insult to injury. Even when they knew the truth, they still refused to exonerate me! I was just about to hang up the conference receiver and go back to the patient lounge, when he asked me to wait and continue hearing him out.
“After the crime scene footage was discovered, a few more weeks passed by. The team didn’t know what to do with it. We had APB’s out with ‘the killer’s face’ to all officers, but as far as ‘the system’ was concerned, the man with that identity was safely locked away already! You! Then, a number of seemingly unrelated killings occurred in different pockets of the city. It was far away from your home. When the new cases were plotted on a grid map, they occupied a clear mile radius of each other.”
I just listened to his rambling narrative in rising bewilderment. Where could it go from there?
“I know how insane this sounds but… I’ve gotta say it. Of all the people I know, you’ll understand, right? You’ve been through this hell already. I’m sorry I doubted you. Please forgive me! Those new unsolved murders are centered around the neighborhood areas of every single person who watched that cursed security footage! Now we have at least three different cases near each of our homes! My ghoulish reflection grins back at me in a horrid, malicious way which makes my skin crawl. I awoke with these strange knife cuts to my palms this morning which I can’t explain in any rational manner… and a new slashing victim was just discovered three blocks from my own house! The other guys have admitted to me that they are freaked out too about ‘the man who stares back at them’ when they brush their teeth! We can’t publicly acknowledge it but we know the truth. As the person who has lived with this curse the longest, I’m desperately hoping you have some insight into how to stop it.”
It all sank in, and my eyes widened in growing terror. This unexplainable evil was spreading exponentially! Every person who saw the contagious image of my imposter in the footage would also be infected. They too would develop an imposter killer to possess them.
I asked him if they still had my bathroom mirror locked away in evidence. After nodding knowingly, his bloodshot eyes showed genuine hope, for the first time since he’d arrived at the visitor’s booth. I think he had the same thoughts I did. I didn’t have to tell him to smash it. He didn’t even hang up his receiver.