“I wanna be like you”, he says.
“But you ARE like me”, a voice hisses back.
He isn’t sure he believes him. Not just because his words feel untrue, but the sound of that voice reminds him of dark damp caves where all the creepy crawlies blindly feast on each other in utter darkness.
“You’re lying. If I were, I wouldn’t have been hurt like before…”
“Maybe so, child. Maybe not. Maybe all you need is a little….push.”
He can’t help but want to be stronger, colder, unfeeling. He resists, but he can feel his walls weakening, turning to dust with each word. It scares and excites him.
“Listen to me. One teensy tiny action…but a measly thing…and this could be yours!”
He feels the cold desire clawing at him. Ripping at his fear, shredding his resistance, and playing on his weakened soul…
He realizes he was wrong. He isn’t a cave dweller, he’s a demonic carny. Wheeling and dealing. Hoping to claim his soul. Anger starts to rise, he feels the walls rebuild, and a heat fills his everything.
“I don’t wanna be like you,” he says, throwing the sheet over the mirror as his reflection screams in anger.
He knows this war isn’t over. He’ll rest up for the next battle.