Psychologically

Mirrors

"Just home?"exclaim Dad while lowering the newspaper he just read.

I laughed a little and scratched my head which was not itchy.

Mom was also acting the same way as Dad, he was also asking a lot of things about all the questions that were in his head.

"Where do you want to go?"ask Mom to interrogate me.

"Home home" I answered briefly as I passed up to the room.

I put my back on the bed with the newly replaced bed sheet this morning.

The star-patterned and light blue bed sheet was so fragrant that it made me sleep in his arms.

The clock in my room kept ticking as time went on.

I was asleep at the time, but I didn't realize that someone was always watching me in my room.

One of the things in my room was like watching me all the time.

But I try not to care, but this fact always bothers me.

It's uncomfortable and uncomfortable, not just about horror stories.

But you can tell my story is more creepy than the horror stories you always watch on the television screen.

Because my story is related to the mental and lower realms of a person.

There are few mistakes when dealing with conscious problems, but you can be the bet.

I woke up around 3 am, I intend to sleep again but can't because it's early enough and soon dawn will reverberate if I sleep again.

I opened my eyes wide, then walked towards the study table.

Open the closet and pick up some books to read to relieve my boredom.

Some of the novels I have read I am getting sleepy because all the novels I read have been read many times.

For a moment I opened the phone, then explored the virtual world, exciting but over time my eyes became quite sore.

I then opened the music app and listened to some of the music I set on my favorite blue henset.

I was dissolved in the song, I was able to open a closet that I rarely open.

How surprised I was to see all the old books covered in dark chocolate were mute in the closet.

I picked up the old book and then put out the cover so that all the dust that stuck to it was gone.

I coughed after all the dust was flying in no direction.

"What book?, the feeling I don't have a gini-rich book" I muttered as I flipped through the book in my hand.

Then read the front few pages of the book carefully, a word clearly emblazoned in the book.

"Psychologist"gummed slowly.

I continued my work by reading more about the book.

The book that made me almost half-dead, how not it turns out that the book I am currently reading is a book that discusses the mental and subconscious of humans.

The book I borrowed a few years ago in the city library has not been returned until now.

I feel a little guilty.

"A psychologist must be able to make his patients comfortable and psychologists can mostly feel the suffering of his patients" I continued reading.

My heart was pounding as I read a sentence in the book.

In the book it is explained that a person can make a mental fall and eventually commit suicide.

Isn't that terrible?.

I read more about the book, a sentence with red blood splotches plastered there.

But unfortunately the book sheet was torn and could not be read.

It could be the name of the person, the food, or the customary house.

Bruakkk.

Understandably because the ceiling of my house is very thin and blends with the attic floor of the house.

I gulped, I forced myself to go up again to the last step that ended up in the attic of the house.

My attic is rarely entered by people, it is cleaned only once a few years so I have never seen anything in it.

The last time I walked into the attic was probably when I was on my 14th birthday I don't know if I remember.

I opened the attic door that was so small that no more than one person could enter.

Imagine an SD child alone might not be able to get in there.

So small my head to hit the ceiling pain the ceiling but not how much with my excessive curiosity.

I didn't get into the attic, but I could clearly tell that there was a large enough mirror inside.

I remember seeing it but I forgot.

There was nothing strange in the attic, I paled my intention to browse the attic deeper.

I turned my back and intended to go down the stairs just before the sound of a child calling me.

"Dena" the voice kept buzzing in my ear.

I was shocked when I saw the little girl in a plain white dress standing inside the mirror.

With his innocent gaze he looked at me with mystery.

I was not afraid because I realized that the child standing before me was me in the past.

Without asking too much the boy ran straight towards me.

I did not have time to avoid even running away from him, which happened even the child entered into my body and disappeared instantly.

I feel my body, weird because my whole body feels goosebumps.

Out of fear I immediately went down the stairs in a hurry, my breathing roared undeterred.

Until Dad caught me on the stairs.

"What are you doing in the attic?"ask me with a cup of coffee in my hand.

"It just so happens to pass by" My laughter with breath is still irregular.

I immediately walked to the kitchen and took water, gulp the water quickly until it ran out unceremoniously.

"Am I possessed?"I murmured with water on my face.

My sweat splashed all over my body, until my sleeping pajamas were soaking wet.

I sat on the sofa near the living room there was a television that was very rarely watched.

I tuned it up and watched the news broadcast live from the scene of the event.

The news showed a luxury car being set on fire in the middle of the city.

I recognized the car so well, I was surprised to stand up from the sofa.

"Hopefully it's not Angga's car" my murmuring while pacing back and forth was not kumuan.

Because I was nervous I went to the room and took my phone and immediately I typed Angga's phone number on my phone.

Calling and ringing but no one answered.

I bit my lip for fear that the car in the news was Angga's car.

I don't care about the car, but I'm afraid that Angga is still there and not safe because he's burned alive.