Beyond The Mirror Gaze

The alarm shrieked to life, piercing the silence with its incessant Bzzt bzzt bzzt. "For fuck's sake," Leroy muttered, slamming his palm onto the alarm clock to silence it.

He turned to his left, expecting to see Anita's familiar face. But she was nowhere to be found. "Anita, where are you?" Leroy called out, his voice laced with concern.

His gaze swept the room, taking in the modern decor. A sleek TV dominated the center wall, surrounded by rock band posters that seemed to glare at him in the dim light. The space felt empty, devoid of Anita's presence.

Leroy wandered over to the window, his gaze drifting out into the void. The ground below was a seemingly endless expanse of nothingness. Yet, amidst the emptiness, he saw hands. Countless hands reaching up, as if pleading for rescue.

Leroy's hand rose, his fingers splayed against the windowpane. He stood there, frozen, as if grasping for the outstretched hands. His eyes locked onto the void, a mix of longing and desperation etched on his face.

The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of his own ragged breathing. Leroy's older self watched from the shadows, still and unyielding.

Leroy turned away from the window, enticed by the savory aroma of cooking food. His stomach growled, and he followed the scent out of his room.

As he walked down the hallway, his gaze wandered to the framed pictures on the wall. One image caught his attention - a younger version of himself stared back, frozen in time.

"I wonder..." Leroy trailed off, lost in thought.

"Leroy, come eat!" a voice called from downstairs.

Leroy's body jolted at the sudden interruption. He heard footsteps moving swiftly upstairs.

With a sense of trepidation, Leroy continued down the hallway, his fingers tracing the wall. His eyes landed on a peculiar portrait - a frame with no paint, no image, just a blank canvas.

Leroy descended the stairs, his eyes fixed on the woman below. She sat on the couch, her long black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of night. A white cotton T-shirt and black sweatpants hugged her curves as she sang along to the rock song blasting from the TV.

Her voice was hypnotic, pouring emotion into every lyric:

"My friend, you're here again,

Lying in my bed, I feel nothing within.

No emotions stir, no feelings arise,

Stuck in stagnation, a numb surprise.

I miss you, friend, my friend, my darkness too,

A comforting presence, one that shines through.

You never left me, a constant in my night,

A reassuring shadow, a gentle, guiding light."

The woman's voice echoed through the room, a haunting melody that sent shivers down Leroy's spine. He felt an inexplicable connection to the lyrics, as if they spoke directly to his soul.

Leroy!" he called out, but the woman remained unresponsive, lost in the song.

Undeterred, Leroy approached her, his hand reaching out to graze her shoulder. The woman's response was unexpected - she bit her nail, and it opened with a faint cracking sound. But instead of blood, nothing spilled out.

Leroy's eyes widened as he pulled her back, and his heart sank. The woman's face crumbled, revealing a skeletal visage beneath. Her body began to dissolve into the air, like sand slipping through an hourglass.

The TV continued to blare, the rock song looping into an eerie silence.

Leroy's stomach growled, drawn to the savory aroma wafting from the kitchen. A faint voice called out, "Leroy, come eat." His eyes followed the blood trail leading to the kitchen, and he caught sight of his younger self darting towards the kitchen.

Leroy sprinted after him, his voice hoarse as he shouted, "Wait!" But his younger self vanished into thin air.

Breathless and confused, Leroy scanned the empty kitchen. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. Outside, the sky darkened, and rain began to pour down in sheets.

Leroy's gaze drifted to the fridge, and he opened it, revealing a neatly stocked interior: bottles of water, juice, steaks, chicken, and eggs. He grabbed a bottle of water, closed the fridge, and placed the bottle on the table.

Leroy's gaze drifted back to the void, his eyes glazing over in a trance. Minutes ticked by, yet he saw nothing. The silence was broken by a faint knock at the backdoor.

Leroy rose, his movements mechanical, and opened the door. He peeked out, but there was nothing. The rain poured down, drumming against the roof and pavement.

Despite the emptiness, Leroy stepped outside, sitting on the step. Rainwater soaked through his shirt, clinging to his skin and accentuating his features. Chubby fingers, soft and pale.

Hands reached out from the darkness, grasping for him. Leroy's eyes locked onto one, and he took it, feeling the soft skin. A gentle voice whispered, "Go back in, it's cold."

Leroy trailed water into the kitchen, his eyes locking onto Umbral. Umbral's gaze swept over Leroy's drenched form, a hint of amusement dancing on his lips.

"You had a nice shower?" Umbral asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Leroy's expression darkened. "Shut the fuck up. Why are you here?"

Umbral's laughter echoed through the kitchen. "As ya wish, sir king."

Umbral's demeanor shifted, his expression turning serious. "Sit down for a second." He gestured to a chair. "Are you okay, Leroy?"

Leroy hesitated before responding, "I don't know."

Umbral handed Leroy an empty poster and a paintbrush with paint. "Paint this."

Leroy stared at the blank poster, confusion etched on his face. "What is there to paint?"

Umbral took the poster back, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Suit yourself."

With a flourish, Umbral began to paint. Stick figures emerged on the poster – one holding two honey buns, the other clutching a meat or veggie bun.

Umbral held up the poster, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Look at it. What do you think?"

Leroy's gaze locked onto Umbral, his expression unreadable. He stood up, his movements slow and deliberate.

Leroy walked past Umbral, who swiftly grabbed the painting and held it close. The rain outside ceased, as if on cue.

Leroy entered the living room, his gaze sweeping the space. A toy superhero caught his eye, but his attention was drawn to a conversation between a child and a woman.

"Mom, this is a superhero!" the child exclaimed.

"No, it's a supervillain," the woman corrected.

The child's response sent a shiver down Leroy's spine: "Sometimes the villain is the hero. That's why I picked this one."

Leroy's bleak expression deepened as he turned away from the toy. He approached the staircase, noticing the reeling and tape on the railing. A rock song drifted from the TV, and Leroy sang along, his voice a haunting melody, as he ascended the stairs.

In the hallway, a woman with purple hair and a petite, sleek figure beckoned him. Her tattoos and markings seemed to dance in the dim light. She walked towards him, her arms open in invitation.

Leroy took a step back, his eyes locked on hers. The woman continued her approach, but her body began to burn, flames engulfing her skin as she walked.

Leroy continued to step backward, his eyes fixed on the woman. Her burning body seemed to shift, her hair growing shorter, now shoulder-length.

"Leroy, that's your name," a voice whispered.

The woman's voice sent shivers down Leroy's spine. "You can just call me Mother."

Her clothes disintegrated, revealing her body. Leroy's gaze was drawn to her figure, a mix of fascination and horror.

"Leroy, it's time to take a bath," Mother's voice cooed.

The house around them began to crumble. Flames licked the walls, and pillars burst through the crumbling structure.

Leroy's voice shattered the air. "Hey! Stop!" He hurled books, pictures, and glass at the woman, his eyes wild with desperation.

Weeping, Leroy stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet. "Don't come any closer!" he begged.

The woman continued her relentless approach. Leroy scrambled to his feet and fled into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

As he caught his breath, a faint whisper echoed through the room: "I'm sorry, Mommy."

The door burst open, and Leroy's eyes widened in terror. With a desperate leap, he launched himself out the window, plunging into the void.

Flames burst through the window, engulfing Leroy as he plummeted downward. The woman's voice whispered in his ear, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I really am. I'll do better, okay?"

Leroy felt a gentle pat on his head, but his gaze fell upon the woman's bleeding wrist. He turned away, overwhelmed.

"It's warm," Leroy muttered, his voice carried away by the wind. Purple lightning illuminated the dark sky, and a cool breeze caressed his skin. "It's warm."

Leroy's eyes snapped open. Anita's frantic voice pierced his eardrums. "Wake up, wake up! We're going to be so late! He's going to kill us!"

Leroy's gaze locked onto something across the room – an empty portrait, its blankness staring back at him like a haunting echo.