I am confined within a cell, but only in body. My mind is free, completely unfettered by my body's incarceration. It is my sanctuary and I often retreat to it. And it is this which my enemies are after. For they can control my body easily enough, but they cannot hope to even budge my mind.
My cell door opens and the light from the hall floods through. Two men are standing just outside, both look identical to the other, same skin, same suit, same dark sunglasses. Even the same shoes and tie. They beckon me forward and I move. They turn me around and apply cuffs to my wrists.
Now my hands are secured behind my back and both men have me held at the crook of each elbow. They're leading me forward. They are in control not I, but only of my body. They can't touch my mind. After all, anyone can be controlled physically, that's never hard, but getting inside someone's head can be very tricky.
They move me and I am moved. They take me to a different place, different in that I have never been there before. It's down a long, seemingly endless corridor full of plain white doors, encompassed by plain grey walls, black floor and white ceiling and I am violently escorted into a room at the far end and thrown inside.
It is completely dark save for the light entering from the hall as I recover from the floor and stand up. I look to the opening and watch as the door is shut and for a few moments I am in complete darkness. Then, there is a brilliant flash of light and for a moment I am blinded, but only for a moment.
Once my vision returns I can see the room is different from the hall. The floor is black and the ceiling is still white, but the walls are mirrors. Four giant mirrors. I can't even see a door anymore. Each of these mirrors reflects the image that is me, the bulky purple hoodie I'm wearing, the blue jeans, no shoes, but that's what you expect from such a reflective surface.
I'm standing, staring at the reflection in front of me. I can no longer tell though if it is the wall which holds the door or just a wall, as the room is completely disconcerting. I can no longer tell even which way I am facing anymore. Were it not for my feet on the floor I would probably be unaware of what way is up.
Then something happens, the image before me smiles. Am I smiling? I can't be sure. I raise my hand to my face, no I'm still sporting my customary scowl. I look back, the image is still smiling. I look to the next mirror, it is the same. All four mirrors reflect the same incorrect replication, with no difference between them.
I watch as each of these images, in unison, reach back and pull their hoods up over their heads and over their eyes. Their faces are now completely dark and I can see bright white eyes starting at me just beneath the recess of the articles. All of them just standing and staring. Four by my count, one for each mirror.
They continue to stare and I continue to observe. Their stares pierce and begin to burn within my soul. It hurts and I slowly start to crawl inside myself. It is my usual defense. You can do whatever you want to my body, because I can crawl inside my mind where none but myself have access. Not so, in this case.
Within my sanctuary I still feel the stares as they begin to burn through my protective wall and it isn't long before I'm exposed. Now I'm outside my head again, forced to face the images before me. I start to sweat and my eyes widen. This has never happened to me before and I'm at a complete loss as to what I should do.
My barricade has always been indestructible. No foe, possessing of any strength, could break it down, no matter how long they sieged against it. Not so here. Within a matter of moments my defenses have been torn down. I am beginning to panic. I don't know what power holds me so and it frightens me, but not for long. The fear, the panic, it soon gives way to anger.
I clench my fists and feel the restraint that holds my arms behind my back. I pull and the bindings break, though not without considerable strength that makes the metal bite into my flesh. Now my arms are free, willing tools for my ends. I only have one end in mind, sheer, unadulterated violence.
I rush toward the middle of one of the mirrors, my elbow cocked, ready to fire. I stop in front of my intended target and stare with all the intensity I can muster. It stares right back with pure defiance lacing its eyes. I let loose with a piercing scream as I let fly my anatomous weapon against the barrier between us.
The mirror cracks. I let fly again, this time with my fist. More cracks, more breaks. Again and again I land my punches, pulverizing the glass. I stop, I can no longer see the image anymore. A second later the mirror, or what's left of it, shatters and falls to the floor. In its place a dark recess.
I stare into the darkness and probe it with my hand. There's no hindrance presented by any foreign object. It is in fact, empty. I'm ready to step across the threshold, when a sudden impulse overtakes me. The burning sensation returns. I spin around. There is another image staring at me.
I fly into a rage. Completely ignoring the broken glass and my bare feet, I charge forward. This time I let fly my elbow first, before I even stare down my opponent. This mirror cracks the same as the first and just as the first, it does not alter the image before me. The eyes still stare through the cracked glass.
I pummel the mirror without mercy and soon it is covered in cracks all across its surface. I can barely see the image anymore, for the many indents that I have put into it, but I know it is there. Just like the first, this mirror too, holds for a moment before shattering to the floor in a rain of shattered glass.
Again I am faced with the dark recess, but this time I do not probe, this time I do not even attempt to cross it as my anger boils within me. Why? Because there is still another image, the eyes of which I can feel upon me. I turn my head to face it and clench my hands so tightly that they start to hurt.
My tolerance is now almost non-existent as the rage fills every crevice of my being. Once again I ignore the shards of glass which have scattered all round the floor and most of which are now smeared with my blood. I charge again, this time leveling into the mirror with my whole body, even my head.
I don't wait any longer than is necessary to get from one point to the other at a dead sprint. I already know what I will see which means I am not going to be surprised by what awaits me at the end of my violent odyssey. So I let fly my fists, my head and my knees, anything and everything that can be used to my advantage in this situation is employed to be deployed.
The same as before I cover the mirror with cracks, only this time it gives before my anger does. My fist flies forward to deal with my now crumbling opponent which then joins its fragmented cohorts. It causes me to wonder, am I growing stronger through this continuous aggression, or have my opponents grown weaker through the fear?
I throw a fist as strongly as I can before the absence of an obstacle registers with me and I stand perfectly still. Then a disquieting thought enters my head where there is so much empty space that it echoes all around me. Perhaps it's not the mirror, nor the image that is the intended victim, but the darkness behind it.
But what is this darkness that seems to be exuding from every point all around me till I am so mired by it that I feel myself physically choke on it? I don't know, but I do know that if I don't find out I will drive myself insane. Though I cannot, at this time, as there's another opponent to be dealt with, the fourth and final mirror.
I have a goal now. I'm going to shatter this mirror just like the others and thus be surrounded by the dark recess. I don't even register the image, I simply lash out. My body becomes a weapon, every piece, every fiber, intent on my adversary's destruction. The mirror falls just like the others, now I am surrounded by the dark, just as I had planned.
I'm ready to cross over when a sudden surge of pain floods my body, leaving my hands to burn. I look to them, they are a bloody mangled mess and I can see the bone poking through my broken skin. My eye begins to sting, along with a painful surge upon my forehead and I am forced to close my eyelids against the surge of burning agony.
Gently I dab my forearm against the troubled spot and endure the flares of stinging sensations. My arm and sleeve come away smeared with blood, some of it already dried. I look down at my legs. My knees have suffered just as much. Finally, I look at my feet, they as well are bleeding and covered with shards of glass.
My fury has kept me from registering any of this, but now it's gone. I'm not sure of my next step, but it doesn't matter, as the opportunity is robbed of me. From the darkness I see a form step forward. It's standing toe to toe with me and I can't believe it. It's the image I had destroyed. It is completely unscathed and once again staring at me.
I back away, completely forgetting my own body's sore plight. I look away from the sight and behold the same. I look back. There it is again. I look all around. They're all back again, all four of the images I had destroyed are back, standing in the void I had created. They still possesses the glowing eyes and continue to stare at me.
I have no more rage, the anger is all gone, completely used up. Instead, I shrink away till I stand in the very center of the room. The images advance beyond the darkness and step into the slick, glistening floor. Like me they seem unaffected by the glass. I don't care about that, I just want them all to go away.
The images continue to advance at a uniform, steady pace, creating a kind of wall that is slowly closing in around me. I'm so scared at this point, all I can do is cower. All while I will my body to become as small as possible and I shut my eyes tight. I just want this to be over and would do anything to make this happen.
I can't escape from them. The images are still there and they aren't going anywhere, their gaze still upon me. I dare to open my eyes. They've closed so tightly around me that I haven't an inch to myself. They remain resolute, simply standing as their eyes stare. I've run completely out of options, or so I had thought.
All at once the rage boils anew and I stare at the images, my eyes defiant. I pluck a shard of broken glass from the floor and tear into them. Each cut, each stab sends my opponents back and I make sure to pay equal attention to all four. Neither of them will escape my righteous indignation.
I'm done with what I had to do. It's over and nothing, nothing can reverse the wheels that have been set fully in motion. The glass has fallen from my hand and now lays on the floor. As do the images. Each one now a bloodier mess than I and I don't care that my improvised weapon eviscerated my hand.
I had won the day and stand now victorious. They had torn down my mental fortification, but my body had risen to the challenge so it really didn't matter. I fall to my knees and raise my hands in a show of victory. All my adversaries have been laid low, and I stand alone, the conquering hero of all the ills that could ever be within me.
But in the blink of an eye, the mess is gone and I find myself on my knees. There's no blood, no glass, no bodies. Just me with my arms still secured fastly behind my back. I look about the room, there are no mirrors, not one single reflective surface. It's the same as the hall, grey walls, a black floor, a white ceiling. That's all.
The light vanishes from the room, allowing only the shine from the hall to cast my shadow against the wall. The two men help me to my feet without regard for my personal safety and hold fast an elbow. They turn me around and proceed to lead me back down the empty, stagnant corridor.
I can't remember walking down the hall, nor returning to my cell, nor having my restraints removed as my mind is completely awash with confusion, but that's just where I was taken and that is where I am now. The door is closed and the guards, or attendants, or whatever they were are long gone.
Once again I'm in my cell, in the dark. I am sitting on my bed and staring at my hands. A drop of water splashes within my palm and then another. I'm crying. I'm not certain of what had happened actually, but I did know one thing, they had won. There simply is no denying my defeat.
Everything that I am had been contained in that room and it has all been turned against me. Somehow they had weaponized my inner selves and they aimed that weapon directly at me. And though I had triumphed, I had destroyed everything I was in the process. Victory does not come without a price, a sacrifice.
I stand up and stare at the small mirror comprised of polished metal that's nailed to the wall and is all I have to give any kind of perspective. I look closely at the person staring back at me, but I do not recognize the image. All I see is a stranger staring back, who holds no resemblance to me.