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Jimmy couldn’t recognize his reflection anymore.
That had always been a problem for him, hadn’t it? His reflection didn’t look like his. Someone stood on the other side, but it certainly didn’t feel like him, even if it had his face. His reflection had short ginger hair cut into a messy bob, wore a gray shirt over another white, long-sleeved sweater, and plaid shorts. It should have been him. Realistically, and logically, it was. When he moved his hand, his reflection moved too.
But there was such a disconnect that some part of Jimmy couldn’t bring himself to realize it was actually him.
He ran a brush through his hair, trying to tame the mess that had become of it. The brush clinked against something metal. Jimmy narrowed his eyes, lowering the brush. He didn’t want to look, but he had to. He had to at some point, right? Or could he keep ignoring it? Could he keep stuffing it down like everything else?
Slowly, he moved his hair aside.
It was the only piece of jewelry he wore, ever. He hated jewelry, hated how it felt on him, hated how it made him feel. But he couldn’t get rid of this one stupid earring. Not without losing himself too. The orange crystal had darkened significantly since Jimmy had first gotten it, blackness encroaching on the center. He knew why it was darkening, but he couldn’t stop it. Not without risking himself. And that was a risk too great.
His hand fell away from his hair to the counter.
His friends had these crystals too. Anima Crystals, according to the talking dog Martin picked up randomly one day. A manifestation of a person’s soul imbued with their magic. At first, Jimmy wasn’t sure how much he believed it. That was until he accidentally set his blanket on fire. That was the day he realized that there was truth to his friends’ stories.
But he couldn’t bring himself to find joy or excitement in his powers like his friends could. To him, these stupid powers were nothing more than a curse.
Why do you not use it?
Stupid voice…
“I-I can’t,” he choked out, his hands tightening into fists. “I could hurt someone—”
Do you believe your friends do not feel the same? They do. They are just as afraid as you are. But this is their purpose. Your purpose. You need to stop running from yourself.
Jimmy sank to his knees. His hands gripped the countertop, knuckles turning white. “No—” he shook his head— “no, I can’t—” his face felt wet; was he crying again? He pushed himself to his feet, clenching his teeth to stop crying. “I can’t do this.”
You can.
“I CAN’T—”
His fist met the mirror. It shattered. Crap. Crap crap crap… His hand was bleeding. Glass shards stuck out of his fingers, scattered his countertop.
There was a pounding at his door. “JIMMY?!” It was Koki. “JIMMY WHAT HAPPENED?! WHAT’S GOING ON?!”
Jimmy grabbed a towel, holding it under his hand so blood wouldn’t get all over the floor. He stumbled his way over to his door. With the press of a button, it slid open.
Koki had her fist raised, likely to knock again, but she lowered it when she saw Jimmy. “Jimmy, what—” she started to say, but then she looked down at his hand and her jaw dropped— “Jimmy…”
She took his wrist and pulled him out of his room, guiding him away…
* * *
Jimmy winced as the tweezers pulled out yet another blood-stained shard of glass.
Koki had dragged him to her room, sat him down on one of her beanbag chairs, and wasted no time getting to work. Morana’s face glowed on the other end of a video call, and for once Jimmy was glad no one could see his face.
There was silence. Morana only broke that precious quiet occasionally to instruct Koki on how best to remove the glass shards embedded in his skin. Jimmy hoped it would stay that way, that Koki wouldn’t try to ask questions. He didn’t want to face what happened back in his bathroom…
“I’m guessing there’s probably a glass mess in your room too, huh?” Koki said. She set the tweezers down and pulled his hand closer to inspect it. “What happened, Jimmy…?” She turned to Morana with a nod, and the doctor hung up.
Jimmy looked down at his lap, his free hand clenching in and out of a fist. He didn’t really know how to explain it, not without revealing so much. His brain scrambled for a lie, some story to tell, but he came up empty.
“You know I won’t judge you, Jimmy. I’m just worried. You never do stuff like this…”
You would judge me, if you knew the truth, he thought. The words burned in his throat like the hottest of fires, even if he didn’t say it aloud. Everyone does, eventually.
“It… it was nothing,” Jimmy finally said, “just… I was just overreacting to something, is all…”
He could feel Koki’s stare on him, like she didn’t believe him for a second. She probably didn’t. She lived with Martin, after all, and Martin was a terrible liar. And since getting her Anima Crystal, she had become way too perceptive, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all…
“Please don’t lie to me, Jimmy,” Koki murmured, picking up an alcohol wipe— oh come on…
“I’m not lying.”
Koki paused, the wipe hovering mere inches from the cuts. A drop of alcohol dripped into the wound, causing Jimmy to jerk away. Koki pulled the wipe away.
“Sorry— sorry…” she began to clean the wound. “Just… if something was going on, you'd better tell me, alright?”
No.
“Alright…”
Koki smiled softly, setting the wipe aside. She grabbed her Creaturepod and thumbed out what Jimmy could assume was probably a message to Martin. Martin could heal, after all, so it'd make sense.
“I know you'd probably want your hand in working order again so you can play video games and fly the Tortuga,” Koki said. “Martin will be here in—”
The door slid open before she could finish. Martin looked like he dashed across the whole Tortuga, panting as he closed the door behind him, “I came here as fast as I could.”
“Clearly,” Koki said, putting her free hand on her hip. “You didn’t have to sprint, MK.”
“If someone’s hurt, I’m going to,” Martin said, his expression a little darker than normal. Weird… was his crystal darkening?
Martin sat next to Koki, taking Jimmy’s hand in his and inspecting the damage. Koki had cleaned up most of it, and it had finally stopped bleeding, so all that was left was to heal it. Martin made short work of that, his crystal glowing as magic swirled around Jimmy’s knuckles. It felt… weird. Tickly, but like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It was over soon enough, and Jimmy pulled his hand back to flex his fingers.
They still didn’t feel like his…
“Feeling better?” Martin asked. Jimmy looked up and nodded, trying to force a smile onto his face.
“Yep! Thanks, guys,” he replied, standing up. “I should go clean my bathroom now—”
“Do you want some help?” Koki asked, standing up as well. “We’re not really doing anything right now, so we could—”
“I can do it myself.”
Koki took a small step back. Martin furrowed his brows, as if sensing something wasn’t right. Jimmy tensed for a moment, then took a deep breath. That wasn’t him, that couldn’t have been him.
“Sorry… must be tired, I guess. I’ll handle it, don’t worry.” Jimmy smiled once more, then hurried out of Koki’s room before anyone could ask any more questions.
In bitter irony, it felt like Jimmy was walking on shards of cold glass as he walked back to his bedroom, his head in his hands. They tangled in his hair, tugging hard until he reached his door. He leaned against the wall, breathing hard as he pulled and pulled and pulled until—
His hands disentangled himself beyond his control. He knew the feeling all too well, that feeling of slowly losing control over himself as he was delegated to watch. It felt… strange. He felt floaty, like he was watching his body through some weird 3D movie or something. His body moved but he didn’t have control of it.
He could only watch as his body cleaned up the glass mess in his bathroom carefully and with more precision than Jimmy himself would’ve done it with. The glass-filled bag was deposited into a bigger trashcan not far from his room, a note left on the lid for whoever takes it out next: “Warning: there’s a bag of broken glass in here”
When Jimmy’s body was finally in the comfortable silence of his room, Jimmy could feel… himself, again, in a weird way. This was always so disorienting every time it happened, and it gave him a headache. Slowly, he took in his surroundings, like his therapist coached him. He was on his bed, sitting down, his controller not within reach— he fumbled for it, grabbing it from the nightstand. Fidgeting with it brought him some level of peace as he took a deep breath. Okay, he was back in reality now…
Sorry about that…
Jimmy tensed for a moment, then sighed.
“You didn’t have to do all that, you know. I could’ve done it myself,” he mumbled aloud, his head coming back to rest against the pillow, his eyes cast to the shadows on the ceiling created by the lamp at his bedside.
Yes, but… you were already worked up. I didn’t want you hurting u— yourself…
Us. That stupid word that had plagued Jimmy since college. All the crap he went through and for what? Voices in his head, a messed up sense of self, and a far too expensive psychiatrist bill to tell him everything he already knew?
… but it would be a disservice to them to just refer to them as disembodied voices, right? They were much more than that, even if it took him a while to accept it…
“… thanks, though. You’re right, I probably would’ve cut myself or something,” he said after a moment, closing his eyes. He was so tired… what time was it—
9:30PM. I checked the clock when we came back inside.
Oh. That made a lot of sense. It was way past his bedtime. Funny, he was an adult and he had a bedtime—
Can we watch the silk moth video again…?
We watched it last night.
I know… but they’re so cute…
Jimmy sighed. He’d let them argue. Honestly, he was tempted to just fall asleep right here—
Binder.
Three different voices said it at once, jolting Jimmy out of his half-asleep daze. Ah. Right. Well, he could do that without even taking off his clothes. Carefully, he shimmied out of the fabric, sliding his arms through, then pulling it out from under his shirt. He tucked it under one of his many pillows (a specific pillow, at that), then settled in for sleep.
But silk moths…
We’ll watch it tomorrow before we head out, okay?
“Goodnight,” Jimmy muttered, a little forcefully, rolling over onto his side and cuddling another pillow.
A giggle. A scoff. The feeling of someone sighing and shaking their head.
Goodnight, Jimmy.