When something becomes known, there's nothing left to fear; and, when all sides are covered by light, and no shadow remains, there are no mysteries left to unsettle our hearts. Although I firmly believe this to be true, it does not mean that familiarity equals clarity or comfort - it is related to it, but it's not one and the same. 

If that were the case, I would not fear them anymore. They have already become part of me, part of my life. Yet, I never seem to feel at ease.

I hear a gurgling noise from the bathroom, shaking my attention from my own thoughts. 

I know they can't hurt me, or at least they won't. But each sound is as human as an uncanny animal could reproduce. I know it's the noise of a living being, and that's what makes my body shake whenever it attempts to reproduce any syllables.

And it's not just that. 

The ones that are silent are the ones that make my body scream as an animal cornered and aware of its doom. And the only thing they do... is nothing. As if frozen in a loop, they only exist there, unable to move or be moved.

Something moves hastily by my side.

I jump at the sight in the corner of my eyes of the only anomaly between anomalies: the only one that can, sometimes, keep its agency. Although I wish it didn't. Not for my sake, but for his.

He looks human, maybe it is human. He walks around my room writing things that vanish seconds after marking my walls with nonsense ideas. The ones I'm able to read look like book passages, some even with dialogue, yet they disappear too fast for me to read. 

He sometimes seems angry to see his work vanish right in front of him, yet it doesn't seem to bother him enough to look for something more interesting to do.

Finally, the uncanny animal in the bathroom manages to pronounce clear words yet again.

"re... rejoice".

I stay quiet in the hope that it is trying to communicate with someone else. Otherwise, it would be extremely rude to say such a thing while inside my own mirror cabinet, exactly where my only salvation is.

"Rejoice"

He says again, while the sound of his crushed bones and ripped flesh starts to be as loud as his voice. I don't know how he manages to fit in there, but now the only thing I can do to finish this nightmare is to take him out of the cabinet.

I get up, ready to head to the bathroom.

The corridor I once fell running through is oddly empty.

Is the only one inside the bathroom the crushed, uncanny animal?

Was it really talking to me?

I open the door.