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not a daydream

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At first, Jake thinks it's just another twist of his waking nightmares.  Another facet of his madness.  He's almost sure he made Marisol up, that he killed all those people—Mom, Connie—out of some twisted monster inside him.


And then he starts seeing Tom, and Harry, and bodies and blood. 


Tom looks just like him.  Tom's just as messed up as him.  Gotta be another fabrication. 


Then the mirror starts talking to him. Telling him to stop taking the pills.  To start hiding knives. 


Jake's been a good patient for over half a decade.  Hasn't killed anyone since his parents, since Marisol.


He created Marisol, to kill all those people.  That's what the doctors say.


But he's been a good boy.  No one's watching him anymore.  He's such a good boy.


But now Tom is in his mirror—no, Harry is in the mirror, and Harry says to do horrible things.


Once, Jake could've gone anywhere, done anything.  And now that he's quit taking the pills, all he sees are targets.


In the mirror, Tom whimpers for him to stop.  But Harry, Harry demands he keep going.


When Jake hesitates, Harry pulls him into the mirror and shoves him out of the way, and Marisol laughs while Harry kicks down the door.


"I'm sorry," Tom says.  Jake just waits to wake up.