Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📕

to Fred’s, taking all the paths where I wouldn’t be seen by anyone still out at this hour. I had to be careful. The Suit could have been stalking me right now.

When I got closer to home, I checked for any police presence. There were no cars about, but all the lights were on. I went around the back, climbed over the fence, and walked up to Fred’s cottage. I lightly tapped on the kitchen window, then the door. That was our secret knock.

He quickly opened the door and yanked me in by my arm.

‘Hey!’ I said, rubbing my arm instinctively. Oddly, the grab hadn’t left me feeling weird, as it usually would. Maybe hugging Tina had helped with my aversion to people’s touch.

‘Where have you been?’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘And what’s happened to your face and hands?’

‘Nothing,’ I said, tucking my hands under my armpits. I walked over to the only mirror in the living area and inspected my reflection. My cheeks were marked red where The Suit had squeezed my face.

‘Doesn’t look like nothing, JC. Tell me what’s going on. I’ve had your grandad here twice saying you didn’t come home from work, and now you turn up here, looking like you’ve been fighting with someone. Have you been home yet?’

‘No…’ I said, turning around to look at him. My gaze settled on his face, and I noticed he had a wonky eye. His brow furrowed.

‘John-Michael,’ he said. ‘You’re looking at me. You never look at me.’

‘Oh. I am, aren’t I?’ I said, though I didn’t take my eyes off him as I watched all the expressions his face contorted into. ‘What’s happening?’

He muttered something under his breath and rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘You tell me. Seriously, what’s happened to you, JC?’

I didn’t know what had happened to me, but I was looking at someone in the eye for the first time since I was a toddler. It could have only been The Suit’s doing; he must have done something to me when he made me look at him, as though he had snapped it out of me with those dark eyes of his. He had been able to look into my eyes without flinching, and he was far from unnerved by them. Though I was unnerved now. Would I be able to keep it up? I didn’t think so now with the way Fred was looking at me as though I’d grown a second head.

‘You’re starting to scare me, JC. I’m off to fetch your grandad,’ he said, reaching for the door handle.

I darted across the room and put myself between him and the door.

‘No, you can’t leave,’ I growled. The noise my voice made startled me. I brought a hand to my stomach as I felt it churn. My body had reacted in a way my brain hadn’t asked it to.

Fred held his palms up. ‘John-Michael, calm down. Now, I don’t know what’s happened or what’s going on, but I’ve never seen this side to you, and I’ll tell you something, I’m not liking what I’m seeing.’

‘Sit down, you’re not going anywhere,’ I said; my voice remained louder than I’d expected.

Fred sighed and backtracked to the sofa, where he sat with his elbows on his knees, watching me carefully.

I had a lot to process. I was doing what everyone wanted me to do. I had looked at someone without using a mirror. As the awareness of what I’d done sank into my brain, I realised it did feel strange and uncomfortable. And I knew my gaze could go either way now; I could sink back into the world of mirrors and reflections or fight against it.

Though looking at folk was the least of my problems now. What of my family? Would they believe me when I told them what happened? And what about the police? Would they believe me?

‘Can’t we talk about it?’ Fred asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

‘Not right now, Fred, I’m not ready, and I need time to think. Can you put the kettle on and rustle me up something to eat? I’m famished,’ I said, hearing my stomach grumble again.

He looked at me like I’d asked him to cook me a three-course meal. ‘Fine. But you’re going to have to tell me something,’ he said, getting out of his old, battered chair.

I waved him away and looked out the window to my house. All the lights had gone out except for the kitchen. Whether my grandad had stayed up or left it on for me, I didn’t know.

‘Couple of slices of toast, do you?’ Fred asked from his kitchenette.

‘Yep, thanks, Fred. I’m really sorry about this,’ I said as he banged crockery and cutlery, taking his frustrations out on them.

‘I’m going to need more than an apology,’ he said, bringing back the toast and tea.

I hummed but didn’t share anything.

‘Do you want something to clean them?’ he said, nodding towards my hands when I didn’t speak.

‘Oh.’ I held my hands out in front of me to inspect them. I flexed them and winced. The knuckles were bruised, and the skin had been scraped off. They really did look as if I’d punched a wall. ‘Yeah, I best get them cleaned up,’ I said.

Fred fetched me a cloth and a bottle of TCP. I dabbed at my knuckles and removed the dried blood. I’d have scabs in the morning, and there would be no hiding it. I put the cloth in the sink and ate the toast. Fred sat at the table, drinking his own cup of tea, not taking his eyes off me as I moved around his home.

‘Are you going to let on what’s going on, or what?’ he almost snapped at me.

‘I can’t tell you what happened yet. I need to work it out through my own mind first. I’ve got some decisions to make,’ I said, sitting at the small round table.

‘Well make ’em fast and get out of my home,’ he said,