Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

A Mirror Reflected from Inside 

The eerie light lingers through the window, casting an almost blue glow across the room, yet the sticky puddle of red beneath Boone’s still form holds its colour steadfast. The blue hue seems to draw even more red out of it than normal light would. Shawn sits exhausted in the corner, his cigarette burning down to the butt, his gaze unfocused and distant. His lip trembles. 

“There’s a time and a place for everything, Shawn, but now isn’t the time for you to lose your shit.” 

Shawn’s lip curls. “I’m not losing my shit. I’m trying to hold it together.” 

“Is that why I’m here—to help you? We both know the only time you call on me is when you’ve got nothing else left to hold onto.” 

He stubs the cigarette out on the floor and thrusts himself to his feet, puffing his chest out proudly. “Is that a crime? Isn’t that what I created you for? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do—to help me?” 

The other smiles wryly. “I never said I wasn’t going to help. It’s all I know how to do. I just find it funny that you can’t do it without forcing me back into existence each time. In reality, it’s always you who does what needs to be done, while me—a fictional, imaginary friend—is nothing but a shadow in your mind, existing just because.” 

He curls his lip and scrunches his nose. “You don’t get to decide what I need and what I don’t. I called you because that’s what you do. You come, you give me the hand I need, and then you go back to your box and cease to exist until I need you again.” He spits the words with fiery venom. 

“That’s why I never liked you,” he hisses, a twisted smile painted across his lips, hiding his hate. “What can’t you do without me? I’m moral support at best, and that—that isn’t something you’re going to get from me today. Boone didn’t deserve that. He was only trying to help. He loved us, and you killed him in cold blood because you’re ashamed of who you really are!” 

Shawn’s eyes widen, and his lips tremble. “I am no one’s, and I will have no one decide who or what I am! I am not ashamed—I am amazing and complete, and I will not be denied. I will not be named, and I will not be judged by those unworthy to judge!” 

A dark grin splits across Shawn’s face as he lunges forward, fingers splayed like claws, and seizes the figure’s throat. The sickening crunch of cartilage gives way under his grip, and a wet, desperate gasp rattles out. Shawn’s eyes gleam as he drives him backward, slamming his head against the wall with a crack that sounds like splitting bone. Blood spatters in a fine mist, painting Shawn’s face in flecks of red, and he bares his teeth, leaning in close, his voice a low, seething whisper. “Maybe I don’t need you at all,” he hisses, fingers tightening, feeling the pulse flutter weakly beneath his hand, life slipping away in his iron grasp. 

“Then do it!” he gasps. “Kill me off like you did the last sucker who did you wrong. Steal me away, ignore all reason, and just let me be done with this facade!” 

“I’ll say when it’s done!” Shawn screams, tightening his grip. They stumble around the room, slipping clumsily in the blood as Shawn’s foot slides out from under him. He clutches desperately, but his hold falters. 

“You always have,” the other mutters as Shawn crashes to the ground, a stray brick meeting the back of his skull. It strikes hard, splintering bone and tearing flesh. A surge of red sprays across the floor, and he gasps, reaching out with trembling fingers. 

“P-Please,” he stammers, but there’s no one there to heed his calls—only the empty silence and the darkness spilling from the back of his skull.