My reflection taunted me in the bathroom mirror. There was a smile smeared over the face looking back at me, despite the grimace I knew I had.

Tonight was the night I finally got close to Lacey and my demon was reveling in that knowledge.

“I’m in control,” I said to the mirror. My evil twin smiled wider, his lips splitting apart to show sharpened, pearly white teeth. He didn’t believe me and I feared he was right.

I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. I didn’t have the option of questioning my control. If I started to question, then I’d already lost.

I gripped the counter as I leaned on it, squeezing the edge as if testing its strength. The demon’s eyes bore into my own. They were black except for the red ring of color in the middle. Demon eyes. Cursed eyes.

I always saw the demon in the mirror, even if I knew my own eyes were still white. The horns I saw on the head in front of me didn’t exist beyond the reflection. The inky tattoos crawling up the demon’s throat were blank skin in reality.

The mirror only ever showed him though, never my more human form. He stood there smiling wide with delight as he watched me contemplating his horns, eyes, and tattoos.

“It’s only a matter of time before you realize you’re fighting yourself,” his voice came out deeper than mine—smooth and warm.

“I’m fighting you,” I said through my teeth. Deep hatred simmered in my gut. I didn’t want to be a demon. I was an abandoned incubus that had never known my origins. Demons were rare in this world. Rare and despised.

“I am you,” the demon said before a deep chuckle rolled out from his lips. He believed one day I’d lose this fight for control. That I was headed towards being the most lust-hungry incubus the world would ever see. He believed that a lifetime of keeping him tied up had only forced him to become stronger while fighting the restraints.

I could see the truth of that. Power radiated off him like a red haze. It bubbled under my skin like lava. It was always there. I was always tamping it down.

Quickly, I spun the faucet on and shoved my hands underneath the water stream, washing my hands roughly as if it could cleanse me. There was no cleansing me though. There was no getting rid of the demon. We were one and the same and yet also two warring desires battling for control.

He was me but I couldn’t accept that. Fuck needing to feed. It’s not that I was ashamed of the feeding. I was just frustrated it was necessary. It reminded me of what I was. A demon in a world that hated me. A demon that had so much repressed hunger it was driving me insane.

A man came out of one of the stalls behind me, his face white and clammy as his eyes darted to me nervously. I sighed. He’d heard me talking to myself. I thought no one was in here. I shook my hands over the sink, letting water drops flick off before I used the air dryer to finish the job. The man didn’t even bother washing his hands, just fast-walked from the room.