Something's wearing my face (II)

That's when I see it. Myself. A near-perfect replica, save for the legs, which look like those of a large bird. The Bible collides with its forehead, breaking the skin on impact. The creature goes completely still for a split second, then erupts in a mocking laugh. It is laughing at me for using a Bible on it, and that pisses me off as much as it scares me. I swing again and hit the same spot, and the wound starts to bleed profusely.

That's when I notice the pain in my own forehead. Something warm runs down my face, and in that moment I finally understand. I am hurting myself as much as I am hurting this creature. I am the hunter and the prey at the same time.

The creature seems to notice my realization and smiles maniacally. I turn on my heels to run for the kitchen, but something cold wraps around my ankle and my head connects with the floor, sending stars across my vision. The creature stands over me, blood trickling down its forehead... my forehead.

"What do you want?" I manage to croak through the pain in my head.

"What do you want?" it repeats. Its voice seems to come from inside my head and from its mouth at the same time, which makes the pain worse. It sounds like a creature learning to speak for the first time.

I try to get up, but it bends down, grabs my foot again, and begins to drag me back toward the bathroom. I scream and kick and beg, and the creature copies every word. By the time we reach the bathroom door, its voice is exactly like mine. The only difference between us is those bird legs.

With a little illumination from the living room, I look around for something, anything I can use, but there is nothing. The mirror is cracked and my phone lies shattered on the floor. The creature lets go of my legs and pulls me up by my braids. The pain is unbearable, and I scream again. It copies me. I notice that the braids on its head look strained too, and that is when something finally clicks. Whatever happens to me happens to it.

"Let go of me, or I'll hold my breath until we both pass out," I croak. 

This time it doesn't copy me. It lets go and takes a step back.

I step back too, and my back hits the counter. Behind me is the broken mirror. A shard is within reach, and for one terrible second I think: I could hurt us both.

Before I can make up my mind, the creature rushes at me and shoves me hard. I fall, and just like that, the light is out. But the floor beneath me isn't tile. It is cold and smooth, like glass. I scramble to my feet and turn around to find the bathroom door, but there is no door. There is no wall, no counter, no mirror. My hands sweep through the dark and find nothing and when I stamp my foot, the sound rolls away from me in every direction, on and on.

I run anyway. I run and I run and I run, my footsteps cracking across an endless sea of glass and darkness, until my head grows light from blood loss. I collapse and let out a frustrated scream as tears stream down my cheeks. Somewhere far behind me, someone is laughing in my voice. I recognize that voice. It's my voice coming from the creature that's wearing my face...my existence.

"Where am I?"

The echo carries on for as far as this place stretches. I can't remember how long I've been here, in this nameless place. It is pitch black and smells of ash. Once in a while I hear footsteps in the distance, but whenever I call out, no one answers.

My life sucked before, but now it's on a whole different level. And it all started with that stupid link.

A neighbor knocks on Esther's door. She heard screams from the apartment a few hours earlier but assumed Esther was fighting with her boyfriend again. A few moments pass, and the door swings open with Esther on the other side.

"My dear, good morning. How was your night?" the neighbor asks, eyeing her warily. Something looks off about her, but she can't place it.

"It was fine, Mummy Bose. Is something wrong? You look bothered," Esther says.

"No o, I just wanted to say hi. Take it easy, ehn?" Her eyes finally land on Esther's bird legs. She stares for a moment, and envy fills her as she wishes she had smooth legs like that.

"Alright, ma. I have to get to work now."

"One more thing before you go, my dear." The neighbor finally gathers the courage to ask. "What's your skin care routine? I want smooth legs like yours."