"She still refuses to look into any mirror." I saw the nurse look my way as he spoke with the doctor in the hallway. I sat patiently in my bed, waiting for the doctor to enter my hospital room. It would be the same thing as it has been for the last three days; he would ask how I felt today, if I cared to recount the events of last Thursday night, and attempt to show me the pocket mirror he had brought with him in his lab coat pocket.

I cannot explain what happened. I can only say that I looked into the eyes of Satan himself that night.

I was never fully comfortable looking into mirrors, and would panic if I was alone in a dark room with one. Something about the possibility that there could be so much more than a reflection within that thin piece of glass always put me on edge. There were times when I would casually walk by a mirror and feel as though my reflection did not follow. It was as if the image of myself lingered there, watching my physical body walk by.

I can share my story, but with no evidence to back it up, I can only hope that whoever reads this does not believe that I am crazy. What I saw that night was real, and I pray that even my worst enemy will never have to endure the paralyzing fear that came with the occurrence that I am about to describe.

It was around 8 P.M. and, after a hard day at work, I felt that I deserved a hot bath before going to bed and starting the next day at a bright and early 4 o'clock in the morning. I observed my typical pre-bed routine by washing my face, flossing and finally brushing my teeth while mentally preparing for the next day. I was getting ready to open the bathroom door and walk out when I saw a reflection of a black streak go across the wall behind me. I stopped and continued to look into the mirror at the wall behind me but saw nothing out of the ordinary. I blew it off as my exhausted mind playing tricks on me and walked out of the room.

About three hours later, I woke up and immediately regretted drinking a glass of water before bed. I stumbled into the bathroom, half awake, turned the light on and walked past the mirror to the toilet. As soon as I had walked by the mirror, I got the feeling that I was being watched; I had more important business to tend to at that moment though and I did not worry too much about it.

I flushed the toilet and walked to the sink to wash my hands, but along the way, I heard a ‘pop' followed by the electricity going out. Power surges in my neighborhood were not unheard of, but the fact that I was standing in front of a mirror when this one happened caused this particular surge to be a bit unnerving. I quickly finished washing my hands and blindly felt around for the doorknob. I wanted out of there as quickly as possible, but I could not get the knob to turn. I patted my hands on my shirt just in case the excess water was causing my hands to slip, but this turned out to be futile because the knob refused to budge.

My heart was racing and my breathing became elevated. I closed my eyes to avoid looking into the mirror, and silently cursed the builder of the home for placing it right by the door. I felt dizzy and knew that I would hyperventilate and eventually faint if I did not calm down.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes as I reached for the doorknob again. I became paralyzed when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw myself in the mirror. The image I was seeing was not a direct reflection of me, but a bright, almost glowing body that was looking at me and smirking in a way that I can only describe as pure evil. The eyes were black, hollow, and soulless. They were not my eyes.

I frantically tried to turn the doorknob, but it was still not giving. The ‘me' in the mirror moved forward, almost as if it were going to climb right out of the mirror and stand next to me. The tears began to well up in my eyes and I began to beat on the door in hopes that someone in the house would hear me. Suddenly, I felt a hot and stinging pain go across my chest and around to my back. The pain was so excruciating that I fell to the floor.

That is all I remember. The next thing I can recall is waking up in this hospital bed with my mother staring at me, white as a ghost. She told me that my father had found me when he was getting ready to leave for work the next morning. I was passed out in the floor with razor thin, but fairly deep gashes trailing along my chest and back. I did not tell her, the doctor, or anyone else what had caused me to be such a state because I did not want to be sent away to a mental hospital.

So here I am, waiting on the doctor to come in, do everything but beg me to tell him what happened and try to get me to ‘look at my beautiful face' in that stupid pocket mirror. Try as he may, I cannot and will not look into another mirror for as long as I live.