Mirrored

I could hear Junie talking to herself in her room. As usual, she directed comments to her twin sister, Julie, who died three months before. It was heartbreaking to hear.

I decided today was the day to help her understand that Julie wasn’t returning—ever. I dreaded this conversation with my child, as she and her sister were very close. Being a single mom, though, I couldn’t wait until things became more serious.

So I went to her bedroom door and was fixing to knock when I heard my daughter addressing herself as Julie and herself. It was a little creepy. I almost held my hand before knocking on her door and walked away—almost. Instead, I knocked and entered the room.

What I witnessed next was beyond comprehension. Junie, standing before her mirror, turned to face me. To my horror, her reflection also stared back, meeting my gaze. Junie, seemingly oblivious, asked if I needed anything, while her reflection tilted its head in a chillingly unnatural manner.

I was freaked out and wanted to scream. Then the reflection asked me if everything was ok, and I fainted.

Since the incident, I’ve covered the mirrors in our house. I told Junie not to remove the blankets from them, either. I don’t know whether to make an appointment with a psychologist or a priest.