2. The Vanity: Strange

"I....I really don't want to, dad."

George looked down at his son with irritation, his thick brows raised as he sighed. "Ben, you've been putting this off for weeks. I don't have time for this today. I need you to do your chores before I get home from work.”

“But dad…”

“ I don't have time to argue with you. Get. Them. Done."

Ben's shoulders immediately slumped as his father walked out the door with an air of finality.

Ben prided himself on not being scared of much. He had been twelve by the time he had fully grown out of the monster under the bed, been too old for myths and legends for plenty of years now. He wasn't afraid of the dark, or spiders, he didn't mind snakes, or zombies; honestly, he wasn't scared of much. He knew most of these things were harmless or just flat out weren't real. So when something managed to spook him, it frightened him to the core.

And as his gaze fell on the garage door, whatever he had heard that day, still had the jitters in his system. A sense of foreboding sticking to his skin like an indomitable web, snared tight and unrelenting.

Being the book nerd he was, Ben usually read to calm his fears if something managed to bypass his calm demeanor. As it stood, he was nearly out of books.

And they hadn't helped an inch.

As far as Ben was concerned, the garage might as well have been the plague.

His father's words rang in his ears, and with a gulp, he realized shirking his chores weren't going to fly this time. Trading any garage related duty in preference for something indoors was firmly shut down.

He had to face the plague head on.

Maybe Tyler had a plague mask?

His own humor didn't quell the unease in his throat.

Ben wasn't scared of much.

But he was scared right now. The sound of applause seeming to tease him in the back of his mind, the same one he swore he heard at night whenever he was in the kitchen.

'Wow, nice going Ben.'

He always pretended to not hear it.

Maybe Jessie had more books he could borrow?

Ben shook his head vigorously and squared his petite shoulders--small for a boy his age. He was determined to conquer his fears. However, he was home alone and the garage creeped him out.

So when he passed through the kitchen to the garage door, Ben's legs still had quiver to the knees.

It annoyed him.

Tyler would have called him a chicken shit.

"Okay, okay... see... nothing here." Ben muttered to himself as he finally found himself in the center of his dingy old garage. The cement floor cold against his socks as he made his way over to his dad's car in the far left corner.

It was unused, unlike the family jeep. But this old treasure, a gorgeous mustang, was his dad's prize and joy. Not a hint of dust, despite its current unused condition.

Or well, it would have been dust free, if he hadn't avoided it for weeks now.

Grabbing a cloth, Ben dropped down to his knees before the hood. His dad's previous words before their argument coming to mind.

"I need you to give it a quick inspection like I taught you, damn thing sounds funny. Can't be having it break on me, that's gonna be your first car Benny. A real show stopper."

Before he could even start  inspecting it though, a chill ran down the back of his spine.

A voice like silk, piercing the air in a way that made a lump form in his throat. "Well, well... what a surprise. And here I thought the daddy's boy was avoiding me."

Ben's head pivoted so fast, for a quick second, he thought he broke his own neck. The pain ignored however in favor of straining to find the stranger.

But he saw no one. The desolate garage was empty, aside from the walls lined with clutter, the mirror, and the unused car. There wasn't anything big enough to hide a person. At least not from where he stood.

"Who's there!!"

But maybe, someone was messing with him from outside. What if they had a stalker? Or maybe someone wanted to rob them?

Every episode his mom watched of the crime channel suddenly was coming back to haunt him.

The breeze from the outdoors suddenly felt unwelcome, and he scrambled to hit the button with all his might. Watching impatiently as the door rattled down to seal him from the outdoors. From the unknown.

The swinging yellow light from the suddenly dark room, his only company as it played with the shadows.

Relief, ebbed away by the distracting and foreboding view.

The shadows looked sinister. The kitchen door seemed miles away.

He'd run to the door, call his parents, and reinforce that someone was messing with him. It was a simple plan--he just had to make it to the door.

Easy.

Right?

Inching to the door like a scared doe, his own fright slowing his movements to mimic molasses, Ben took deep breaths to calm his nerves.

He was scared for nothing.

Whoever it was, they were outside, unable to get in.

He was safe.

"Boo."

"What?!" Falling directly on his bum, Ben looked around in shock. All logic attacking his brain as he realized that was impossible. The sound, from directly behind him, couldn't have been real. The door was shut, no one was there, so WHO--

The bright colors of paint seemed to glow in the dark, and Ben found himself staring directly at the vanity. The yellow and bleak shadows of his garage, reflected back at him from the mirror like an eerie memoire of his world. The little hearts drawn on the glass, little comfort when his focus zeroed in even further on the mirror.

Yellow lights, the sway of shadows.

And Ben watched in horror as the lights melded into a firm set of bright gold eyes. Slits, the pupils, staring directly at him as Ben froze in place.

"Boo~." It chimed again, those eyes crinkling with glee. 

Horror movies were dumb. They were grotesque for no reason, they never had a real scare. Demons, ghouls, ghosts, monsters, Ben knew none of it existed. It was impractical and it had never made a lick of sense.

Right?

So why was it that every bad dream he had ever had was playing in his mind right now? Unable to stand, the weight of his own body kept him seated as he stared in unrivaled shock at the mirror. Watching with his mouth agape as the shadows played in the mirror, a face forming behind the glass. Shades of black, framing charcoal wisps of curly hair. A thin neck, those piercing eyes, high cheekbones, the beginning of his collarbone... and then the image ended. Hooded, barely able to be seen yet so noticeable all at once.

The eyes a brilliant fire as the boy in the mirror suddenly smirked at him. His button nose familiar as he saw traces of his own face in the image with a shrinking stomach.

"You going to keep sitting there like a dead fish, or are we finally going to be able to talk, Ben ol' buddy?" The boy jeered, the mocking slant of his own wide eyes reflected back at him from the entity's.

Ben didn't reply, preoccupied with not throwing up all over the floor.

What. The. Hell.

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell---!!!

"You can call me Cassius. Get the hang of the name, Benny boy 'cause I'm rather interested in your energy. Let's say you've got a lot of..." The entity paused, his smirk growing wider, "potential."

Ben promptly spilled his guts all over the cement floor.