Over an hour had passed, and nothing had happened.

Ash sat with his back to the wall in the bathroom, staring into the reflection of his eyes, one hand up over his head. Every now and again he made a beckoning motion with his fingers in the hope it would catch the attention of whatever it was.

Carefully, he undid the bandage over his face. Within seconds the scabby, angry cut in his face became visible, old residue sticking to the bandage and sutures. It truly was ugly, and the bruises were only just finally starting to fade but it ran so deep it hurt to smile. Maybe he could get used to the scar the more he looked at it although it still looked raw. He grimaced at it, finally noticing the figure sitting beside him. Half visible, but becoming more solid in the reflection as he focused on it. It had a shape, but completely devoid of features. As always he turned to look in its direction but there was nothing but its reflection to behold. He looked back at the mirror and with his raised hand, he pointed one finger to the ceiling.

After a second, the shadow mimicked him. A double reflection in the mirror. He managed to scoff a laugh at the situation, even shaking his head a little. But how would he talk to this thing? The only noise he could hear from it was dulcet echoes, and he racked his brain, looking up to his furrowed brow.

*****

They copied Splitface verbatim. They had finally summoned enough energy to manifest outside of his subconscious and they couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.

They couldn’t, however, just sit and mimic like a reflection. But what could they do? In this state they weren’t sure how much influence they could have in this world, so out of interest they flicked Splitface’s ear.

He flinched away and made a startled noise. So they could touch him. This was promising indeed. They flicked him again.

*****

“Ah!” The hand was hovering by his ear and a hot little sting happened again. What on earth? Suddenly, the realization that it could touch him terrified him. He brushed his ear quickly.

Could an abnormality in his head physically touch him? Did he imagine it completely and he’d been fooled by his mind playing tricks? Or was it a real thing standing invisibly behind him all day that he could only see in the mirror? He didn’t really want to dwell on it too much. The third flick was the final straw, and he leapt up and turned around in the direction, waggling an accusing finger at the unseen entity that he knew was there.

No! Don’t touch me! Get off me!” He glanced at the mirror, the figure sat motionless, the hand still raised incriminatingly. Ash sighed and sank back down to the floor, hugging his knees. “Who are you? Why are you in my head? Is this just because of the accident?”

He looked over his shoulder, and to his shock, the shadow was right in front of him, face to face. He reached out to find only air, and his hand went straight through like mist. He watched the shadow copy him.

A warm, lucid touch passed through his cheek. He gasped, grasping where it had touched. As it touched him, there was a glimmer, a flicker of features in the air to match where the shadow was sitting. Ash looked to the mirror and it had gone, but he didn’t want to lose what he had seen.

He dashed to the table, where all his old work lay strewn out like a makeshift map. He grabbed a pencil, finding a clean sheet of paper and began to sketch, scribbling madly before he lost the image in his head. He grabbed a blunter pencil from the bundle and shaded around the face and under the eyes. As far as he could remember, it looked female, but her eyes were black where there should have been white, and the pupils white. It was like an inverted photograph. Everything was not quite the right color, and it didn’t sit right with him, not at all.

After half an hour or so of shading and sketching, he pulled back to look at the full picture. Apart from the color and lighting being flipped, it looked like a regular person, an adult woman at that. Wide eyes, a button nose and small, slight shoulders complimented her slender neck and thin lips. Everything about her suggested lithe and lean, perhaps too thin, even.

Ash picked up a sharp pencil and finished the sketch. It had been the first thing he saw but the last thing to add: the mirror image of his own scar right across her face.

*****

They had to retreat inside Splitface. Interacting with the physical world had taken considerable effort and they had to recuperate back the warm nest of the subconscious. They were totally hidden here, but Splitface did sometimes react to movement. Perhaps trying to scrawl a message or an image would show in his dreams. They set to work, using their nails to etch an image - writing wouldn’t work as it was clear they didn’t even speak a language that was comprehensible to the other.

The drawing was crude, but functional: A human shape supposed to be them inside a box. Would it be enough? Impossible to know. They had to rest for now.

*****

Ash woke up to the phone calling its shrill tone. Foggy pictures in his head were quickly becoming lost as he fumbled out of the covers. He was surprised his arms didn’t ache after testing his body on the roof last night. If anything, they were positively tingling with energy.

“Hello?” His voice was doughy and parched from sleep.

“Ash, my boy!” Derek’s enthusiasm was constantly boundless. “How are you today?” He was being nice, but Derek would be expecting a progress report, should he lie to him?

“Uh, I don’t feel that bad actually,” Ash rubbed the cowlick at the back of his head. Even though he had barely slept, that one piece of hair would always stick up every single morning.

“Your physio is due in at ten o’clock. You sure you’re happy with Alice?”

Ash balanced the phone under his chin as he dumped coffee into the filter paper. “What’s your problem with her?”

“I just know way better, more professional physiotherapists.”

The translation was that Derek knew way better, more male physiotherapists. Ash held his tongue.

“Anyway, just be ready for ten, okay?"

Ash hung up and switched on the coffee machine. He had made too much as always, but he loved the aroma that eventually filled the whole room. The voice in his head crooned. He chuckled.

“You like that? Too bad you can’t have some. Maybe you sorta can if I have a cup.” He looked in the mirror, but she wasn’t there, his scar however, stood out red and burning. He winced.

He might not have been able to see her, he did however, have the rough sketch from last night. He paused and looked at it a moment, sipping his coffee.

He was desperately out of practice: he hadn’t properly drawn anything since he’d graduated, and time had robbed him of some of his skill. He could see silly mistakes in the pencil strokes and anatomy, his professor would have been waggling her finger at him.

The knocking made him jump, causing the voice to react also. He smiled at it and went to the door. Alice Lee stood in the open doorway, her mouth open in dismay.

“Mr. Everson, what do you think you’re doing? Where are your crutches?”

Ash looked down, then back up again. “I still need them? It just doesn’t feel like I need to.”

Alice ducked under his shoulder and braced him, grabbing around his back. “Try not to put weight on that leg. Let me walk you to the couch.”

Ash’s face twitched as they walked: he really didn’t need this kind of help, especially not after the shenanigans he was pulling on the roof last night. He refrained from telling Alice about the one handed handstand he did. They reached the couch and Alice placed him down gently. Ash accidentally playing along as he realized he had been limping. The voice piped up a little before quelling almost immediately.

“If you strain your body while it’s still recovering you could end up doing permanent damage to yourself. After what happened it’s a miracle you don’t have any, so don’t tempt fate. If you want to make a complete recovery and get back to work quicker I implore you follow my advice.” Alice stood over him, arms folded tightly, eyes lancing through him with her ruthless professionalism. Ash actually liked her attitude with him: treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen. He nodded and she sighed at him.

“Well, as long as the words went in. You might feel ready to walk without crutches, but your mind will try and trick you. Let me re-apply that face bandage too, why did you take it off?”

*****

Ash lied and feigned his way through most of the session. The voice had nothing to say throughout as he concentrated hard on pretending to be wincing as Alice put him through his paces. Sometimes Alice would open her mouth as if to say something, but always stopped before words came out. Eventually they ended on his couch and she stood back up.

“I don’t get it,” she mumbled to herself. Ash looked up at her.

“You don’t get what?”

“You don’t need me for your balance or anything, you seem totally fine. How…?” She sucked her lip and bit on it. Ash didn’t really know what to say. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds, before Alice sat down next to him in a huff.

“You were in a coma a month ago, you broke several ribs but there’s no evidence. How does your chest feel?”

Ash shrugged. “Fine.” Alice sighed heavily and knotted her fingers, twiddling and twisting them.

“I don’t really know what to say to you, Mr. Everson. The human body is amazing at getting better but...but this is totally unheard of. Honestly, I’m flummoxed.”

The noise rattled in his head, taking him by surprise a little. Unconsciously, he glanced at the bundle of paper on the table.

“I’ll be coming back in a week for an assessment. I need to process this anyway, but I’d advise that you go see your doctor and get yourself checked out.”

“Mm,” he nodded. With that, Alice left wordlessly.