Placebo Feelings

The first time Jack Barakat played Bloody Mary, it was at his thirteenth birthday party. Or, not so much a ‘party’ as a sleepover with his two closest friends—Rian and Zack.

He’d been dared into playing it, and even though he didn’t want to (“I don’t wanna play it because it’s a stupid game, guys. I’m not scared. It’s just a game to scare little kids, that’s all.”), he still found a working flashlight and marched his way toward the bathroom. His brave face didn’t last any longer than the door shutting behind him. With a glance into the mirror above the sink, illuminated by the single light bulb overhead, he took a heavy gulp, closed his eyes, and reached out a shaking hand to not only turn on the water, but also flick the switch on the wall to plunge the room into darkness.

Jack took a deep breath to reorient himself as the pinks of his eyelids became black, as well. He could hear giggling outside in the hallway, and he knew that his friends could hear him just as much as he could hear them. Still, even though he knew that prolonging the inevitable would make him seem like he was scared or something (he really wasn’t, okay?), he couldn’t help but keep silent in the darkness for just a few seconds longer than necessary.

When he felt okay enough to begin, he let out another deep breath and focused his hearing on the running water instead of his friends, still snorting away on the other side of the door.

His voice wasn’t shaky as he breathed out, “Bloody Mary… Bloody Mary… Bloody Mary…” and he didn’t pause before opening his eyes and turning on the lights.

At first, it was hard to distinguish anything in the mirror. Jack’s pupils had shrunk rapidly at the sudden light that flooded in front of his face, and he had to blink a few times before anything really came into his vision. He was more than ready to laugh it off and open the door to show his friends that, as he’d said, nothing had happened, but then… then there was movement in the mirror, and he was inching forward to get a better look.

He’d figured maybe Rian and Zack had snuck the door open when they’d heard him start speaking, and now they were going to jump out and scare him, except… the person in the mirror wasn’t Rian or Zack… it wasn’t even him.

It was a man (maybe a teenager), with long, blonde hair that had far too many highlights. The person’s eyebrows were barely visible, but from what Jack could see, he could tell that they were almost as thick as his own. He was much taller, too. He was looking down at Jack through dull eyes, nearly black in color.

There was the thought that maybe the person was standing behind him, and maybe it was someone Rian or Zack knew that he’d never met before, but the only problem with that was the fact that he couldn’t see his own reflection in front of the man. Even if he could see his reflection, it wasn’t a very plausible explanation to begin with.

Jack watched in horror as the person reached up to press their hand against the glass. Both sets of dark eyes followed the movement briefly before they were glancing back toward one another. When the man opened his mouth to speak, Jack let out a scream and opened the door quickly so that he could get as far away from the room as possible.

He went to the one place that didn’t have a reflective surface as his friends broke down into a fit of hysterics outside of the bathroom door. As the two finally caught their breath, they decided to investigate. Maybe Jack’s little ghost (or whatever it was that he’d seen) had decided to stick around.

Except, the only thing in the bathroom that seemed truly out of place was the fact that the water was still splashing pointlessly against the porcelain of the sink. When the lights were turned on and the water had been turned off, the cabinets were all pulled open and riffled through, the shower curtain was tugged away to make sure that no one was behind it, and the toilet lid was even flipped up. Not a stone was left unturned.

When both boys were satisfied that every corner and crevice in the room had been thoroughly inspected, they followed the route their horrified friend had taken. Their laughing had started up once more, and tears were practically streaming down their red faces. It became so difficult to breathe that they had to lean against each other in order to stay somewhat upright.

At the end of the hall they’d seen Jack disappear to, they could hear his heavy breathing and choked sobs from behind the closet door. There was a light streaming from under the bottom of the door, and if the noises hadn’t been a blatant indicator of the teen’s hiding spot, then that sure gave it away.

Zack, being the more sympathetic of the two, stopped his gasping and panting after just a few moments of listening to the whimpers. When Rian didn’t follow his lead, he immediately nudged his friend and glared before he crept forward and, as carefully as possible, pulled the door open.

Inside, Jack was pressed as far into the corner as he could possibly get himself. His face was buried in his arms, but the flashlight was there. Zack could see the light it gave off, and it was no doubt being shined directly into the younger’s face. His body was shaking uncontrollably. The most troubling thing (other than the fact that he was apparently trying to blind himself with a flashlight) was the fact that, no matter how deeply the breaths he took in were, he still couldn’t seem to breathe.

Rian had long since stopped his laughing. If anything, he seemed more freaked out by what he was seeing than Zack was. Neither was sure what to do or say at first. Was there really anything to say? Would apologizing amount to anything?

In the end, both kept quiet before Zack finally reached out a calming hand in search of the flashlight. He knew that he needed to turn it off. That was probably one of the top priorities. The second, of course, was getting Jack to calm down enough to breathe properly.

With just a little bit of adjusting, both older boys were able to sandwich their poor friend in the middle of their own, awkward bodies. Arms wrapped around him loosely, and the occasional hand pat at his hair or rubbed at a bare arm.

Neither realized when they fell asleep that late night, leaving Jack alone.

He’d glance out of the door that was still left ajar whenever he got his nerve up enough to actually do it, and each time it proved to be just as bad of an idea as the time before. There was a mirror near the opposite end of the hall. If it wasn’t for how Jack was sitting, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see it… or the small movements that couldn’t have been his eyes playing tricks on him.

Jack Barakat wasn’t stupid, but he would finally admit that he was scared.

Into the early hours of the morning, Jack would watch. If he listened closely enough, he was almost sure that he could also hear a light tapping on the glass or an unfamiliar voice floating through the air.

As the first rays of morning light began to stream through the windows of the Barakat household, the noises and movements stopped. An addition half an hour was waited through. Jack was just as still and quiet as the mirror at the end of the hall was.

Finally, with bleary eyes and a delirious mind, he drifted off into a fitful sleep. His dreams were plagued with the man’s appearance; the gentle tapping sound; the words that barely reached his straining ears, no louder than a whisper.

He didn’t tell Rian or Zack what happened when they woke up. He didn’t tell his parents why he wanted the mirror in the bathroom and the one in his bedroom to be taken away. He didn’t answer the questions he was asked, and no one pressed them for more than a few days.

As everyone else moved on with their mundane lives as though nothing had happened, Jack remained stuck on the night of his thirteenth birthday. What other people don’t know won’t hurt them, right? Hopefully it wouldn’t hurt him any more than it already had.

--- ---

The second time Jack Barakat played Bloody Mary, it was his eighteenth birthday. For five years, the man from behind the mirror had haunted him—both in waking and unconscious moments. He couldn’t bear to look into a reflective surface anymore. What if he saw that same face looking back? What if it was someone else’s face?

Since that first time, he’d become closed off; secluded. He tried his best to act no different around his parents, in fear that they’d seek out ‘help’ for their son, but it was difficult. How was he supposed to act like nothing was wrong when he had to walk past a mirror in public? His mother forcing him into a dressing room to try on a T-shirt or pair of jeans was possibly his worst nightmare. For reasons much different than how other teenage boys would feel about such a nuisance, of course.

For five years, he allowed himself to be pushed down by the fear, but he wasn’t ready to let it go on any longer. He was eighteen-years-old. Soon, he’d be moving out and going to college with other people his age, and there was no way one of them wouldn’t find out. He’d been lucky with his parents and friends not taking notice, but you can’t share a room with a person and have them not also find out every little thing about you.

He’d rather die than let someone realize that he was scared of mirrors.

Since the mirror in the bathroom had been removed years prior, he’d had to improvise—his mother’s old, handheld mirror would have to do.

His eyes studied the intricate swirls that marked up the back as well as the handle of the mirror as he lugged it to his bathroom. He couldn’t look into the mirror itself, not yet. No matter how ready he said he was to get the entire ordeal over with, he still couldn’t quite bring himself to face his biggest fear head on. Besides, he had to follow the ritual closely or it wouldn’t work, right? Surely looking in the mirror too early would cause a disruption in the flow.

A flashlight was picked up on his way to the bathroom from the same closet he’d hid in as a child. There was a moment of hesitation where he wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea to leave the light on and the door open before he decided it’d probably be in his best interest if he did so.

It was just a precaution, really. A precaution that also happened to be incredibly necessary. What harm could it do to have a safe place to go to if something went wrong?

The walk to the bathroom seemed to last both a lifetime and no more than a handful of agonizing seconds. The last step, the one that would bring him to his doom, was definitely the hardest to take. It took nearly an entire minute of peering into the dark room before he was able to get his courage up enough to step pass the threshold and close the door behind him.

Jack fumbled for the handle on the sink in the darkness. It took longer than it normally would’ve to get the water running, but he really couldn’t help the way his hands shook.

He could practically feel himself begin to hyperventilate as the mirror was lifted and his eyes slipped closed. The flashlight by his side knocked against his leg so hard that he was sure there would be a bruise left in its place by morning. Even still, he continued on.

“Bloody Mary… Bloody Mary… Bloody Mary…”

Sixty seconds were counted out before the flashlight was flicked on. Another thirty before it was lifted, and another thirty still before Jack let his eyes open. In the mirror was… nothing. Nothing but the shine of the flashlight stared back at him.

A nervous chuckle slipped through the teen’s lips as he closed his eyes and shook his head, the hand holding the mirror reaching out to turn off the flow of water into the sink before it was moving to reposition back where it’d been before. He was so stupid. He’d spent five years letting something he’d imagined dictate his life. What a waste of his time. Honestly, he could’ve been doing anything else, like—

When he opened his eyes, there was the face that had been imprinted into his mind for years. It was squinting against the harsh light still being shined at it, and only when an arm lifted to cover the dull eyes did Jack think to move the flashlight. Instead of being pointed directly at the thing in the mirror, it was pointed up toward the ceiling, leaving both of them illuminated.

Jack watched, too scared to move as the other boy’s eyes blinked rapidly and the hand that had shielded them rubbed at his eyelids. When the boy in the mirror had finally reoriented himself, he glanced up and peered through the glass at the person who’d summoned him.

Then, he smiled.

“Thought I’d scared you away for good last time,” he admit. His voice didn’t sound tinny or distant, and it definitely took Jack off-guard. He’d thought about seeing the person again, sure, but he didn’t think it would try to speak to him. Especially not so… normally, like they were long-lost best friends or something. “It’s been a long time, huh? You were still a kid last time I saw you.”

“I… I—I-I…” Jack stuttered pathetically. His voice was weak and strained. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say?

“Don’t sound so nervous, dude,” the other boy said, that same smile still on his lips. He lifted a hand and pressed it against the glass casually. “I’m not gonna, like, hurt you or whatever. You called for me, remember?”

“I-I called for M-Mary,” Jack corrected with a whimper. He was a man; why wasn’t he acting like one?

The man in the mirror nodded in understanding. “Yeah, she’s a busy lady. Total bitch, too, between you and me. She can’t get to everyone. I don’t get the obsession with calling her. It drives her crazy, always having to go to different places just to scare some dumb kids. Only a few people actually get her anymore when they play that ‘game.’ It’s more, like, whoever’s closest has to do it now because there are so many people playing at any given time. Seriously, dude, relax. You look like you’re going to pass out or something.”

Jack took in a deep breath, held it for three seconds, and released it as evenly as he possibly could. It was a little difficult to do when a ghost was talking to you through a mirror.

“Anyway, it’s, like, I’m usually hanging around here anyway, so I’d say that nine times out of ten, in this house, I’d be the one that would be called upon,” the man explained. He shrugged, as though it was no big deal, and took his hand away from the mirror. “It’s kinda nice talking to someone. Someone living, at least. I haven’t done that in… I don’t know. Couple years, probably. Maybe even longer. Who knows at this point?”

“Why a-are you h-here?” Jack questioned as he backed toward the wall. He needed something to lean against or he probably would pass out.

“What? In the mirror? I told you—I’m the closest one,” the boy dismissed with a roll of his eyes.

“No, l-like… in m-my house.”

There was a hum. “I used to live here. Killed myself in this house. Probably the worst mistake I’ve ever made, since I got stuck doing this for a living… or, not living… it’s kinda like the whole Beetlejuice thing. You know that movie, right? I’m not too old for you, am I? I’m kind of like the workers who killed themselves. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if more people played Bloody Mary,” he stopped to give a pointed look and raise of the eyebrow before continuing, “but it’s not all bad. I don’t age, and that’s pretty cool, right?”

Jack was more focused on one small piece of information. “You k-killed yours-self?”

The boy in the mirror began to fidget a little uncomfortably. “Yeah, it’s, like… look, it’s probably a story for another day, y’know? Like, we just met and everything, and I don’t think this is something I should be telling you so soon. I already scared you away once. Don’t need to do that again, right?”

At that, Jack couldn’t help the small grin that overtook his lips. “Isn’t it your job to scare me?” he teased, and the boy in the mirror shrugged.

“I mean, I guess it is, but what boss-lady doesn’t know won’t kill her. Get it? ‘Cause she’s already dead?” the blonde joked. That had a chuckle falling from Jack’s lips. “I’m just not really a scary dude,” the boy continued. “What’s the point of scaring away the only living person I can talk to? Last time, I think I just caught you at a bad time or something. If you wanted me to be scary, I’m sure I could give it a try. I never paid attention to any of the tips all the others here gave me, but… well, yeah, I never listened, so it wouldn’t be any good.”

The more the stranger spoke, the more Jack found himself becoming intrigued instead of frightened.

“Can you tell me more? About what it’s like… there?” he asked, voice no louder than a whisper. He didn’t know what he was talking so quietly all of the sudden, but it felt like something he had to do.

The boy in the mirror beamed. He had a lot to tell.

By the time the sun began rising over the horizon outside, Jack had fallen asleep while listening to the stories he was being told. There was more to it all than he would’ve thought, but he couldn’t get enough. After he’d started to snore quietly, leaned against the wall of the bathroom with the flashlight and mirror dangling in his limp hands, the blonde boy observed. He observed until the first rays of morning light splashed against the earth.

Then, he was gone without a trace.

--- ---

The third time Jack Barakat played Bloody Mary, it was the day after his eighteenth birthday. It almost felt ridiculous to say that he was eager to see the other boy—the one he’d learned was named Alex Gaskarth. He’d found out that a sure fire way to make sure he got Alex’s ghost instead of any of the others who could possibly be nearby was to merely say Alex’s name instead of Mary’s. He’d even learned that the water wasn’t required. It still had to be dark, but a dim light wouldn’t hurt.

The revised rules helped put Jack to more ease than he would’ve expected them to.

He said goodnight to his parents with a real smile before he bounded up to his bedroom. His mother didn’t ask about what he’d done with her mirror, and he was more than thankful for that. He needed something to communicate with Alex with until he could find a larger replacement. She would get it back eventually.

Jack’s bedroom door was locked behind him, and he curled up under the blanket until he heard his parents go to bed, as well. As soon as their door downstairs shut, he was reaching under his bed and grabbing for the mirror he’d hidden there just that morning.

The lamp beside the boy’s bed was clicked on and pushed back to the opposite side of the bedside table before he turned on his side. The mirror was lifted so that the side of it rested against the pillow. Jack let his eyes slipped closed before he started up the chant.

“Alex Gaskarth… Alex Gaskarth… Alex Gaskarth…”

When he opened his eyes, the blonde boy was there, grinning at him like he hadn’t a care in the world. Which, truthfully, he didn’t.

“I knew you just wouldn’t be able to stay away,” he said as a finger lifted to tap at the glass, as though jabbing playfully at Jack himself. The other boy shrugged.

“It’s just nice to talk to someone,” he dismissed, like it wasn’t a big deal that he’d called the ghost back. “I fell asleep on you during one of your stories last night, too. I was wondering if you’d maybe start back up around where you started? It’s cool to hear about all this stuff.”

Alex gave a deliberating hum before he nodded. “Since I have nothing better to do…” he trailed out. That night, and every night following, stories were told until Jack fell asleep. By the morning, Alex would always be gone.

--- ---

“I wish you could, like, be here all the time,” Jack said one night, nearly two months into their friendship, as he watched Alex fog up his side of the mirror with his breath and draw on it with his fingers. Smiley faces, stars, misshapen hearts, and the like were all given their fair share. “Why do you have to go away in the morning?”

Alex shrugged, clearly only paying half the attention he should’ve been. “I don’t know. It sucks, but there’s nothing that we can do about it. I can’t, like, start a rebellion or something. I don’t think anyone else would join me, and then I’d just look like an idiot. People only play Bloody Mary at night, so that’s the only time we’re allowed in the mirrors. Or forced into the mirrors. Whatever.”

“Well… what if we tried?”

“Tried what?” Alex humored as he raised his forearm to wipe a big enough space clear to see the other boy. When he could see, he was back to doodling on whatever part of the mirror was still fogged up.

“Tried talking during the day,” Jack answered with a roll of the eyes.

Alex’s lip was pulled between his teeth for a moment before he shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. It only works at night. Besides, we both have other things to do during the day. I’ve got to talk to a lot of people over here during the day, and you do, too. We couldn’t just keep each other busy twenty-four seven. We’d get bored of each other that way. Like some old, married couple who’ve been stuck in the same house for sixty years or something. Then you’d never call for me again, and I’d have to go answer someone else’s call for Mary. It’s better this way.”

Jack reached up to tap at the glass to truly get Alex’s attention. “I’m not saying, like, that we’d have to be constantly attached at the hip or anything, but I just think it would be nice to see you more often. I like talking to you,” he said as the other boy finally looked up at him.

Alex’s face softened. “I like talking to you, too,” he assured, and then he was back to his doodling. Jack didn’t bother trying to speak anymore and instead just watched the fog appear and then disappear into any shape that came to his friend’s mind. Hearts seemed to be the go-to.

--- ---

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened with you?” Jack inquired less than a week later. It was the night before he had to start packing for college, and he was trying to put off the thoughts for as long as possible. He wasn’t ready to move yet. What if he couldn’t get a hold of Alex anymore?

“What happened to me?” Alex echoed, confusion clear in his tone.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “When we met, you said it was a story for another time. I haven’t run away yet. It can’t be too bad or anything, could it? I mean, obviously it is, but… y’know…”

“Oh,” was all Alex had to say. He was quiet for a few moments as he stared back at Jack, clearly looking him over to determine if he was truly ready to hear the story. “Well… I don’t like going into the details too much or anything, but I shot myself,” he eventually answered. He diverted his gaze to the wall behind Jack’s head as he awaited a response.

“Where?” Jack pressed. He couldn’t help being curious. “Is it still visible, like in Beetlejuice?” Alex nodded, took a deep breath, and turned his head. Nothing really stuck out to Jack. “I don’t see anything?” he said as he looked around the hair at the side of his best friend’s head.

“Oh, right,” Alex said as he lifted a hand to move some of the hair above his ear away. There was a small hole hidden there, angled a bit oddly.

“That doesn’t seem too bad,” Jack commented. He wasn’t sure if he actually meant it or if he was just saying it to make the other boy feel better about it… but then Alex was turning to the other side, and… okay, that was much worse. “Dude, that’s disgusting, put that away,” he choked up around a gag.

In the mirror, Alex laughed but did as instructed. “You’re such a pussy, Barakat,” he said as he watched the teen’s skin pale.

“I could see your brain, dude,” Jack said, disgust still obvious in his words. “Like, how can you still even think? Isn’t that what brains are for?”

“They’re kinda not necessary when you’re dead,” Alex dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I’m no smarter or dumber than I was on earth. It’s weird how it works, but whatever. Can’t really complain, right? If I was like some zombie or something, then it would suck, but I’m not, so it doesn’t really matter much, does it? Why try to argue it?”

Jack shrugged. His eyes had closed in order to help calm his churning gut. When he opened them, Alex was smiling fondly back.

“Come on, let’s talk about something else,” he suggested. “Like the boxes in your room. I know you think you’re being sneaky or something, but I can still roam the house freely during the day. I know that they’re there. I think I heard your mum say something about college, too?”

Jack nodded. He was willing to talk about it, of course, but not before he got his own question out of the way first. “Will I still be able to talk to you?”

Alex laughed. “Yeah. I mean, if you can find someplace to be alone at night on a college campus. You’re gonna have to share a dorm… and a bathroom… and a kitchen… and, like, everything else. Are you just gonna hide in your closet again?”

A blush rushed through Jack’s cheeks, and he turned to bury his face into his pillow. “You knew about that?” he questioned as he peeked over.

“Of course I knew,” Alex said. His laughing only seemed to be getting harder the more he spoke. “What do you think I spent that night doing? You called me, so you were the only one who could hear me—which is still true, y’know. If your parents hear you talking to yourself every night they might think you’re starting to go crazy. Anyway, I kept trying to get you to come talk to me, and it didn’t work. You were a rude kid.”

“You freaked me out,” Jack defended. It didn’t really help his case at all.

“I was, like, just as confused as you were, dude. One second I was chilling on the fucking couch downstairs next to your dad, watching the game, and the next I’m stuck in the fucking bathroom mirror with you looking like you’d never been more terrified in your life. I knew what was going on probably less than you did.”

The brunet shrugged. “Guess you should’ve listened to everyone else before that first time, then, huh?”

“Whatever. It’s too late to change that now, isn’t it? Now come on, enough about that. Tell me more about this ‘college’ thing. Have you met you’re roommate? Maybe they have their own Alex or something. We could totally have a double date. I wonder if it’s someone I know. Oh, maybe—”

Jack rolled his eyes and listened to his best friend rant about what he thought the other boy’s new roommate would be like.

It was weird knowing that he’d once been scared of the boy who found joy in talking and drawing. It felt weird knowing that that same boy had watched him do… well… everything, but it was also comforting to know that they found solace in each other; that Alex would always be there for him.

He couldn’t help but wonder how many other people had their own Alex. He’d probably just gotten lucky. Two stupid decisions, five years apart, had led him to his best friend, and he doubted there was anyone else who’d had a similar experience. Jack wouldn’t have given it up for anything or anyone else.

In the background, Jack could hear Alex babbling away about something. He knew it wasn’t about college anymore, and he was too tired to truly tune in. A few nods and hums would have to suffice.

As the first rays of morning light began to peek through the window across from Jack’s bed, Alex stopped his talking and merely smiled. His hand lifted in a wave before he was gone in the blink of an eye.

The hand that was holding the mirror brought it close so that it was cradled against his chest. His eyes slipped closed against the bright light beginning to flood the room. He turned over onto his back after a moment to turn off the light on the bedside table.

There was a little bit of adjusting then, where Jack tried to get himself more comfortable while also keeping the light as far away from his eyes as possible.

Once the correct position had finally been achieved, he brought the mirror up and placed it on the pillow beside his head. He knew that Alex was nearby, more than likely watching him wriggle around like a worm, and the last thing he could bring himself to breathe out before he clocked out for the night day was a mumbled, “I’ll wait to see you again.”

Jack would always wait. Alex would always be nearby.