The car continued speeding down the side of the road. The disgusting smell of burnt tires made its way through the broken back panel and windows. The vehicles' flickering led lights cleared the view a couple of meters forward.

With very few obstacles on the road, everything seemed to look clean. he was safe.

 

Still. for some reason, [his] gaze wouldn't lift off him. Elgan's eyes darted to the rearview.

 

[His] stance was cold and primitive, similar to that of a hungry wolf, [his] body unmoving like a stalking predator. Dirt covered his visage, while a mixture of dried blood and sweat bathed his lips.

Yet, even though [he] found [himself] in that pitiful state, [his] gaze remained inexplicably focused.

 

 

Eyes narrowed, Elgan only spared him a couple of glances at first. Memories back from high school come back to life for some reason.

 

His philosophy teacher used to say the eyes were a window to the soul. Only now did he manage to understand the meaning behind that sentence. [His] eyes were those of someone whose soul had been on the verge of crumbling, someone who was lost. Behind the apparently impenetrable armor that covered [him] hid a lonely, frightened kid. That was what Elgan naively thought. Of course, as always, the reflection proved Elgan was wrong all along. Enticed by the kid's taunts, the armor cracked, revealing a presence entirely different than he had expected.

 

That difference...

The only fact that made them apart. That which [he] had and Elgan had not.

 

Beaten up, swollen, broken, bloody, scared. The list of words that could be used to describe [him] was almost as long as the dictionary itself. Yet somehow defeated wasn't one among them.

 

 

Giving up? Losing faith?

 

 

[His] mind couldn't and wouldn't understand the meaning behind those expressions. Despite being reflections of the same thing, there was a clear difference in that sense. The fire in [his] eyes screamed hope. Hope that someone may be still alive hiding somewhere, trust in the fact that his family rested in safety and that his loved ones weren't hurt. [His] stance was slow and worn out, but eventually, the reflection's lips were the ones to speak first. [His] raspy and tough tone of voice, brought forwards by the nightmare. Embracing that pain like a golden, shining trophee.

 

 

 

 

Elgan tries evading [his] image, but [he] is everywhere. Any and all reflections carry [his] words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They stare at each other fiercely. The reflection's gaze remains decisive, uncorrupted and undoubting, while Elgan's incarnates desperation and horror. His gaze slips to the pedals, his feet approach ever so slightly towards the throttle.

 

'I need to get away from here. I must find help. That's what I'll do.'

 

Elgan's subconscious begs for a dead-minded task, not to think, not to process anything, nor to survive. To run far, far away, to never look back. Clenching his jaw, Elgan's feet are pressed against the car's throttle, the car starts accelerating on the empty road, approaching the void that tainted the horizon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"No, that is not..."

 

 

 

"Shut up! SHUT UP!"

 

 

|BANG!|

 

 

Driven by rage, Elgan punches the glass in an impulsive attempt to kill the reflection. His bloodied fist pulsates with freshly drawn crimson. The mirror had burst, yet somehow [he] wasn't gone, not yet. The hundreds of glass shards now reflect [his] opening lips. [His] cold, determined eyes stare at Elgan from all angles, [he] can see through the tethered, dirtied clothes, through skin and bones, up to Elgan's very soul.

 

 

"I'm crazy, I must have gone crazy!"

 

 

He intends to go faster despite knowing the noise of the engine would never be able to overpower [his] speech. His body listens as he shifts gears. The speedometer marks past the two-digit.

 

 

 

 

Sadly, Elgan is not the only one in control. Responding to the other will, the sholes of his shoe pushes against the brake in a rush, uncaring about any consequences.

 

 

With the smell and smoke of plastic and incandescent asphalt leaking in from the outside, the car spins out of control for a few seemingly eternal seconds before stopping completely just a few feet away from the edge of the road. Elgan sat paralyzed on the driver's seat, his hands clenching anything near him. His head still spinning, trying to process what just happened, trying to understand the reason.

 

 

 

 

Elgan's own foot is still fiercely pressed against the breaks. [His] will is powerful.

 

 

 

 

"Let go-h!!"

 

 

Like a little child, Elgan bursts into tears, punching the driving wheel in a burst of infantile rage. The thing was, even if [he] manifested itself in that object Elgan so desperately raged against, the weaker would still lose. After all, [he] always had a trait Elgan never even bothered to glance at. The exact name of that skill, rather, power...

 

Relentless, the spirit of his reflection was utterly, completely, wholly relentless. Drowning in solitude, unable to extinguish [his] attempts of freedom, without any distraction, without any escape, Elgan was left to face [him] fairly.

 

Perhaps to learn to face reality... Maybe not.

 

 

 

For much Elgan tries to lift his foot from the breaks, it wouldn't budge.

 

 

 

 

"WHAT DO YOU WANT-T! "

 

 

Elgan's emotional turmoil finally makes its way out of his soul, the unmoving air trembles in excitement as havoc and destruction are unleashed through his words. Rage is color red, just like the blood dripping from his eyes. Pain is mostly transparent, just like the tears descending down his cheeks-

 

 

 

[His] tone contrasts with [his] previous one, somewhat impassive and commanding, still, [his] will remains pure. Following orders, Elgan's palm forms a fist, punching him right in the jaw, just strong enough for him not to fall unconscious from the impact. For several minutes the one-sided beatdown continues.

 

Like a bucket of cold icy water, Elgan's thought process stops, as if keen on letting him absorb the experience further. He hated suffering and pain the same, but for now, they were his only anchor to sanity. Several minutes pass, only when he has calmed his nerves does he talk.

 

 

 

 

 

That disgusting silence is back.

 

 

 

 

It was clearer now. Indeed, Elgan was running away... How did he not notice it?

 

 

 

The question oozes into his mind.

 

 

"What am I leaving behind? In hell?"

 

 

Flames. Monsters. Danger. Pain. Suffering. Death. Mysteries. The Unknown. A wreck of what I used to know. A nightmare.

 

 

[He] doesn't need to talk. [He] knows, therefore Elgan knows. It is a facade. There must be something further beyond all those emotions.

 

 

"What am I truly leaving behind?"

 

 

Their lips intertwined in time, for once.

 

 

 

Like a montage, a compilation of all of those memories made through the years runs through his mind. The question is asked. What lies beyond fear?

 

The veil fades as his fingers reach past.

 

 

'My brother and I playing Juan Bross on the Wee and laughing one off while eating popcorn, chilling and uncaring we had always been.'

'My mother and I going for a walk in the park, having that uncomfortable conversation about feelings mothers likes to have every once in a while.'

'My sister and I having a discussion like always and managing to reconcile in a hug at the end of the day and pull off jokes the next minute.'

'My father and I preparing dinner for new year's eve while joking about my grandma's snoring and the trash cooks we were.'

 

It was all staring down at him from that sleeping eyeball. It was all inside that burning havoc, and Elgan Klein was trying to get away from it.

 

 

 

 

"No"

 

No, he does not want to.

 

That is what Elgan wanted to answer, but his resolve was far too short for that. He was scared, he was still scared of it, of that thing, that monster. Terrified of what will happen if he turned his back.

Elgan's shaking hands reached for the image hanging in one small compartment of the car. Likely the owners of the same vehicle he sat on at that very moment. From staring alone, their smiles melt in his eyelids, they all looked so happy, so uncaring, so loving.

 

And it was a lie. False, Outdated, stuck in a fake, far-gone past.

 

 

 

 

Elgan tried to cover his eyes, but the cursed image had already resurfaced in his mind.

Laying outside, in the middle of the asphalt, back when he was running away from that abomination, back when he thought it would be the end of him. The reason he didn't escape through the car's door back when he thought it was his last chance. It wasn't blind trust, it was the smell of death that paralyzed him. Their empty, consumed skulls faced him, petrifying him on the spot, unable to run, unable to move.

 

They weren't a happy family anymore, they were dead. All three of them weren't a laughing, happy family, they were mummies, corpses. Putrified up to the point their last hug in agony had fused their dry skin and bones, becoming one decimated sculpture.

 

 

'I'm not ready for seeing them like that.'

 

 

'What would I do if I saw them dead?'

 

The reason why Elgan wanted to get away from that hell was obvious. Running off, somewhere far away, leaving everyone's lives hanging in that void of indetermination, forget about everything, run somewhere, it doesn't matter as long as the promise to never look back was kept.

 

That had been Elgan's decision, and it repulsed him to the core of his being.

 

 

"UghGHHg-- Ughgh"

 

The kid's guts contracted as he tried to puck out, however, his stomach was completely empty of food. His body was already broken, every step hurt, every breath staler than the last one, a mixture of acid and saliva now coated the floor.

 

 

"All of them are gone, right?"

 

 

A pitiful, weak, crying baby. That was Elgan Klein. Embracing himself in a ball, in a forgotten corner of the world, alone. Welcome to hell.

 

 

 

 

Like an incendiary spark, tears light up as [his] voice reached Elgan. Salvation.