Yawning and sitting up, I shake off the feeling of deja vu. I already know where it’s from at this point… well my journal will.

  Grabbing my journal from the bedside table, I write in it. Titling it of course,

  {#14: I woke up again, in the same bed. Nothing has changed here, and I’m honestly not sure I want to get out of bed.

  Maybe I’ll even look in a mirror, no matter how bad of a feeling I get in my gut. Especially in the bathroom.

  Then again, it’s not like I’m going to get out by doing nothing.}

  Closing the journal, I tuck it away exactly as I found it, before climbing out and starting the daily loop again.

  See, it’s a trick I’ve found. So long as I leave the book as I found it, it’ll keep its contents the same, and I can sorta remember the loops.

  The exhaustion and presence of time passing is still stuck with me, but not the unique events. Not the realizations of it all repeating.

  But my muscles do remember the habit of checking my journal each morning, having trained that over a couple of the earliest days I learned this. And now it's a habit.

  Entering the bathroom, I shrug and decide, fuck it.

  ‘What’s the worst that could happen in looking in the mirror? I die? So what?’

  Even thinking that… I know I don’t fully mean it. Not really. Something tells me that I want to live, so I won’t die.

  As much as I want to look in the mirror… I can’t. It feels too dangerous.

  So instead, I head out to the kitchen and look at where that photo was. It vanished in cycle 5, and hasn’t shown up since.

  Strange, something I can’t remember feels empty without it present. Maybe it’s in another room, but I have no clue. Objects just tend to move around apparently.

  Work is boring and exhausting. At this point, I can’t even bring myself to cook with the full care I should. It just feels exhausting, knowing nothing will matter come tomorrow.

  All but my journal.

  Heading into the bathroom after work, I don’t even bother to wash up; instead I decide against my better judgement to peek at the mirror facing the shower. Just the corner that’s barely visible from this angle.

  At first I just see steam, as if I were taking a shower.

  ‘Who would’ve thought, even the mirrors are fucking weird.’

  Though, as I look about, I spot something… different. A busty figure behind the shower curtains, scrubbing her hair and cat ears a bit similar to my own.

  ‘Tall… and pretty.’

  Something clenches in my chest, and I find myself crying suddenly. “H-huh? W-why am I…?”

  Suddenly, for the first time, the loop ends while I’m awake. Before I can even write in my journal, reality shatters like glass, and-

  ***

  Clenching my chest with a feeling of longing, I slowly climb out of bed.

  ‘That girl… cat ears… didn’t I write about her in the journal?’

  Grabbing the journal I quickly flip through it, finding the description I wrote of it.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  {#2: A girl who has cat ears and a fluffy cat tail, with amber eyes. Family? No, she looks too different, her face is shaped much softer, and her tail is much fluffier.}

  Letting out a shaky breath, I add another entry.

  {#15: It ended early, after I looked in the mirror and saw the cat from prior pictures. Pretty, and I feel longing thinking of her. It matches the feeling I felt of the other girl in the picture I wrote about, maybe?}

  Shutting the book, I climb out of bed and look up at the TV above me, seeing my reflection look back at me with a snide grin.

  ‘Go figure it’s in the mirrors. It must be my way out, and it just barred them off by blocking them up. But then again… it ended early last time when I looked into one. Will it end again?’

  Not sure if I want to risk it, I step out the room-

  In the kitchen, I wrap up eating my late lunch- wait.

  ‘Wasn’t I just walking out my room? What’s going on? Is the loop getting… shorter, somehow?’

  Looking around, everything is as it should be.

  Racing to my room, I open my journal.

  Most recent entry… my heart quickens. {#19: My memory is failing me. The mirrors aren’t the threat, they’re the way out. Find one that’s revealed.}

  “W-what?” Dropping the book, I stumble back into the wall.

  ‘19?! I was just on 15! How did I forget four days already!’

  I’m on the verge of shutting down at that, before I slowly take deep breaths, and look around.

  ‘Right… okay okay, calm down. You forgot it, but that’s fine. Because you also left yourself a note. A path. Just find the revealed mirror. But… where?’

  Walking out into the hall, I look around, trying to shine a light on the picture in the hall, but even looking in its reflection, all I see is black. Not even my own face, just black.

  ‘All the usable ones are covered up. In another room maybe?’

  Going around the place, I find nothing of note. Checking the journal again-

  {#22: Checked the attic, all bedrooms, bathroom, and kitchen at all times of day. Check the dining room next, stay there all day in case it changes, don’t miss it if it does.}

  Racing out the room and to the dining room, I completely ignore the customers walking in, searching for any reflections that work.

  The picture is still missing.

  Sighing, I just search and search as long as I can, something in my soul telling me I’m running out of time.

  …

  …

  ‘Wait… what’s that?’

  Looking at a bookshelf there for decoration, I spot… a phone, facing the dinner table I usually eat at. An old phone- my old phone.

  And on its black surface… I can see a reflection!

  ‘This is it, my way out, right?’

  Looking into it closely, I don’t see my own face staring back like mirrors are probably supposed to work. I think.

  I’m not sure anymore.

  Instead, I see three people sitting around a table, fish plated in front of them.

  First I see the woman with blond hair and amber eyes, the cat I saw before and still can’t shake that feeling from.

  Next, I see the raven haired, red eyed woman who is simply eating some fish.

  The feeling of longing only grows.

  And finally, the person facing away from me… is me.

  ‘What? It’s me? But I’m out here!’

  …wait.

  “No, wait, I’m not out here, I’m in here, and that’s out there! That’s… that’s the other me I’ve seen looking back at me in the TV!”

  My mind is racing, and my heart is pounding. It all makes sense now.

  “That… she pulled me through the TV, that’s why she’s always looking at me like that! It was her that removed the picture, to prevent me seeing through!”

  My eyes widen like saucers and my eyes start to water as I remember just who told us to cover the mirrors, and who met their Others before me.

  “...Yuna… Salka… they’re what I’ve felt missing… they’re out there with another me… someone pretending to be me!”

  At first, I just want to break down and cry, just curl up into a ball and fade away. Like the Other must be wanting me to do as well.

  But then it hits me.

  “If I’ve been here… for so long… then she’s been out there and growing stronger… and they don’t know.”

  At that realization, I look back into the black screen, and lock eyes with Salka.

  Tears pouring down my face, I mouth words to her. “Salka, save me.”

  And I can instantly see her eyes widen, before locking onto the imposter like she’s prey.

  ___

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