When my eyes fell on him for the first time, it only held indifference; I was just bored of my new school. It was a slow burn. I was a frog that boiled to death because its tank was heated so gradually. I didn't even know when to jump out. I don't even remember the first time I talked to the guy. With time, he, I- we, closed the gap. We were chatting after school, passing snide remarks during class, “helping” each on tests, the whole nine yards. He mattered, no doubt. One chilly morning, he inadvertently touched my hand. The fact that I felt the texture of his fingers and the warmth of his body made me realize that something was awry. Something stirred inside me. No, it was nothing. NOTHING. The first warning. School was only fun when he was there. Only him. Just him. He was just my friend. FRIEND. When he wasn't in my sights he was in my thoughts. My reasoning was the laziest cop out- solitude. While I chose to be sort of a recluse, I also only buried my thirst for company. He simply roused it from slumber and now my mind was having issues dealing with it. Looking back, these justifications were so hilariously stupid. We were “best friends”. I was so happy when he confessed how much I mattered. I saved that text, ignoring any thoughts that questioned my behavior. I was THAT blind. To be frank I just pushed it all to the back of my head to let it fester. And oh fester it did; When farewell he bid To that pretty girl with a longing, I felt I was the one he was wronging. Raving and raging, I called upon his vice. He was mine; I'd keep him here, at any price. That was strike two. The outbursts grew frequent. But they made me cherish the times of harmony, no matter how few and far in between. I recall one day I was down and he comforted me. It was at that moment I felt that I didn't need anything as long as he was there. Nothing else mattered. He was there; everything was fine. That's what FRIENDS are for, right? I was living with denial day in and day out. And yet my knees got weak at the mere thought of him. He held so much sway over my feelings; one word, one text, could potentially ruin my day. Time went on though, and I thought I'd get over all of this. I had painted a rosy picture of us in the future, happy and free of conflict. And still best friends. One night I had the most beautiful and the most frightening dream ever. It was him. He clasped my hand and leaned close. Without warning he pressed his lips onto mine. I woke up in a cold sweat with my heart racing. I was so happy and yet so...SO terrified. This was a sign I could not ignore. Now, dear reader, you're probably thinking it's just another sad love tale. I don't blame you but do keep reading. If it was I'd be crying about it elsewhere. No, you see, I couldn't feel this way. I SHOULDN'T feel this way. When I was face to face with reality I turned away in disgust. My skin crawled at the thought of my forbidden desires. One of the biggest prompts for suicide is self-loathing and I knew that a little too personally. In fact the only thing that prevented me was my cowardice, which only added insult to injury. I am an anomaly. A heretic, I might as well be, But a limit exists, even for me. As proud as I am And don't give a damn I'm ashamed of a certain thought, Will it take over? I pray not. Yes, pray, pray as much as I might After each cleansing it returns, at night The thought lingers; With crossed fingers, For abstinence I promise as a token; But I know, it's a pledge to be broken. Again and again I indulge into it And cry and beg in every prayer I sit. With jealous eyes I almost despise, The ones who are free, who have it all, For the first time, I want to be normal. I wrote this just yesterday. I can't help it. This is just how I feel. All I did was love. Is that a crime? Is that a sin? Is anyone out there who has the cure? Please, help me.

Hey, you! Yes, you. Over here! Not there you moron, over here! The mirror! Yes. Good. So, hello there. My name is- ‎ Whoa whoa don't go away! I'm not going to hurt you. I know it's a little weird that a mirror is talking to you but trust me when I say that I mean no harm. No, you're not going crazy, the last thing you'd imagine if you were bonkers would be a talking mirror! I'd know that considering I WAS a psychiatrist before all this. Well, alright then. Let's start over. My name is Benjamin. Nice to meet you. And you are- hold it up! Good grief you're dumber than I thought. Don't all the supernatural shows you watch always tell you to guard your name? Don't frown like that. If you bandy about your birth name I guarantee that you'll regret it. Of course I'm using an alias, silly boy! Stop scowling! I graduated from college when you were in your diapers, kid. You ARE a little boy. So, let's go again shall we? I'm Benjamin, and you are? Brandon. Good. Nice to meet you. What am I? That's awfully rude of you. I'm not some vile beast. I happen to be a gentleman. Yes, I am simply an unfortunate soul who had the abysmal luck of being imbued to this mirror. It's been so long that I've encountered another being such as yourself that I almost mistook you for an animal! Well, you certainly dress the part. Sorry sorry don't be upset. It's just a little tomfoolery. Anyways what my point is- no I'm not going to tell you to rescue me or anything like that. I WISH I could be freed. But this curse is forever. Don't pity me, it's not so bad- just a plain white void extending infinitely in all directions. In essence a canvas to be filled with your imagination. What I am here to say is a warning. Be wary of demons. Yes. Ghosts, apparitions, monsters they're all one and the same. But what's out there is much scarier than the troupes you'll find in popular culture. Demons are clever, cunning and manipulative, smarter than you'll ever be, even smarter than me. How do you think I ended up in this egregious mess? Don't give me that look. You'll thank me later. Yes, a demon trapped me in here. I was an ignorant tool. And the demon was especially cunning. It was an ideal recipe for disaster. The details are fuzzy. Besides, it's not a memory I particularly like to remember. But basically I was playing a game of question and response with the thing. And I lost. The question and response is the most rudimentary occult ritual and yet, it can yield the greatest dangers. The game is simple: you summon a demon, or encounter one, in my case, and then play with it. You try outmaneuvering it with your words as it tries to prey on your soul. Fun. You might be wondering why you cannot refuse playing altogether. The reason is pretty simple, you often don't even know that you're playing it, so if you detect a demon in your vicinity, hold your tongue and think. That's the safest way to play. You ask a question. You go first, you see, demons like to feign modesty as this can often yield trust. Be aware of every word it utters and every word you do. Your soul depends on it. The demon will lie to you, however it has only two chances to do so. So if you can hold out, it is obligated to answer ANY question you ask. Anything at all. You know, why your grades are falling, or maybe how to score that cute redhead from English class. Lucky guess. Lying during the game allows the monster to do add more lies to its roster. The idea to fish out its lies and then ask your question. Don't be an idiot. The risks, you ask? Well, on a scale of bruises to eternal damnation, it is often the latter. Try to answer your questions as honestly as you can, even if it hurts you. Because if that's the worst the demon can do, then you have played the game correctly. What're you staring at? Were you expecting more? Amusing. No. While there are other arts I'm afraid I must refrain from tainting you any further. You already know too much. Before we part ways however I can offer a little bit of practice if you will... Feeling enthusiastic? All right, you first. How old am I? Well I am 89, quite old, I know. The years have not been kind. How old are you? Eighteen? Ah, such a tender age. What's the time? Why, it's half past three in the morning. What do you have in your pocket? Of course it's your ID! What's my favorite number? What an odd question! Well I've never thought of it like that but I'd say that it's two. Can you do me a favor? Well tell me if you can. It's nothing too much. You don't even have to leave from here. Why, thank you! What question got me in this mirror? Why do you ask? It's not a pleasant memory. I don't wish to talk about it. Can you read what's written on your ID aloud? Don't shake your head. You said you'd do me a favor did you not? You committed. You have to. Don't be afraid, your hands are only moving to keep your word; they like keeping their promises. Don't you? It's alright, everything is going to be JUST fine, Mr. Anthony Green.