The man in the mirror isn’t me! I don’t mean that in a metaphorical sense; or even in 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 there’s an alien glint in his eyes which I wholeheartedly reject. Full stop. That sinister leer betrays the fact that 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 my candid admission you can gauge how important it is for me to still reveal the uncomfortable truth, despite the cringeworthy optics of it. I’m positive numerous others have questioned such whimsical things in the past. Who hasn’t wondered the same eclectic thought at least one time when looking at themselves 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 that made me boil with rage! It felt like he was daring me to call him out on the infuriating theft of my reflection. He aptly mimicked my personal behaviors 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 in the glass, but the brief delay was telling. There was a microsecond it 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 identity, would it? A tree falling in the forest still makes a sound whether anyone is there to witness it. There was no telling what this grinning ghoul mocking me was up to when I was sound asleep. It made sense to confront an obvious case of identity theft. Even if I didn’t understand what his game was, then. 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 documenting what I witnessed. That was highly important as you’ll come to see.
When I awoke, I was shocked to see him standing there, covered in dried blood! It was so 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 crimes, and then have me to blame as a patsy for them! 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 no choice other than to help him cover up his unspeakable deeds. I had no other recourse 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! 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 blackmail.
Sadly, the news was filled with horrible stories about 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 my part in helping him cover them up. He couldn’t keep getting away with those atrocities. I needed to stop protecting myself and act before anything else occurred. It was in the public’s best interest that he be stopped; even if I went to prison for my small part of it too. Maybe the court would grant me mercy. 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 is fully dedicated to ‘the role’. It’s startling how authentic he appears. Since my imposter is so committed to pretending to be me, I always have the first move! That is a powerful tool I took full possession of. He has to do exactly what I do! His determination to stay in character gives me power over him, which I’m sure he resents deeply.
For hours I stood there, forcing him to follow my every move and silly 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 it all that he would resist the urge to harm anyone else. I think my efforts worked that night as I slept, but it wasn’t a sustainable plan. A killer like him has to kill. I had to capture him alive, and then take him directly to the police.
Finally I figured a way to get him the hard justice he deserved. I went to my garage and pulled out a Philips head screwdriver from my 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 at him for a few seconds. I think 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 pieces. 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 them but still had to help! I couldn’t believe it, somehow he still didn’t break character but I knew he was dying inside. 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, I caught myself. The mirror didn’t break.
All along the way, I had to smile. Then I began to laugh. First it was only a mild chuckle but nearing the police station, I was roaring with laughter. People around me in traffic looked at me like I was a lunatic for being so animated for no obvious reason. That’s ok. They had no idea who I’d captured, or how clever I’d been in my plan to bring the heinous perpetrator to Justice.
I figured at that point he would crack and do whatever it required to ruin the mirror and 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 escort to bring him in. That way 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 that I had urgent information about the violent crime wave which was affecting our city. He seemed pretty jaded and skeptical until I told him I happened to have the culprit captured in my vehicle, outside. He immediately perked up hearing that. When I explained I needed assistance bringing him inside, the officer paged a couple of jailers to assist us.
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 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 statement. I didn’t mind, but I was terrified he would somehow get away while I was in the detective’s office.
Tearfully, I confessed about my small part in covering up his unspeakable crimes. They nodded politely as I unburdened myself, but I overheard one of them say something which eluded me. Something about: ‘non com pos mentis’. Never having been in legal trouble, I’ve never knew much of the police jargon they use. Then they asked 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. Soon, everything will be better.