When Alice awoke, she tried to push herself up, her conscious mind not quite catching up with her surroundings immediately. When she felt the straps holding her in place she pushed against them, testing their strength. She'd been in this situation before, though this was the first time she'd woken up to it, and knew they were able to easily resist anything she might be able to throw at them. It didn't stop her, and hadn't previously, straining forward before thrashing about. Each time the image of a trout being tossed onto the rocks beside the river while the fisherman baited his next hook swam into her mind. She could see it flipping frantically, desperate to return to the water from which it had been stolen. The image was always enough to calm her, as it did on this occasion.

"You're awake."

Alice turned her head but couldn't see the speaker. It didn't matter; she knew the soft but insistent voice.

"Yes, Dr. Edwards."

"How are you feeling, Alice?"

"Tired, Doc. I feel like I've slept for a week and haven't slept for a week."

"That's understandable. The drugs we have to give you can cause disorientation and a measure of lethargy. You'll soon be back to yourself."

"I'm not sure I know who that is," she said.

"Well," said the doctor. "If we listen to your parents, I believe that would be your sister."

"Yes, but that's not me!"

"I know. Which is why we need to find out who you really are under all that oppression."

"Thanks Doc. If only we could do that."

Dr. Edwards walked around the table into her field of view. He smiled at her. He was sure he could find the real Alice buried beneath the mountain of persecution and make her realise she was a single entity and not an unwelcome symbiont of her twin. He wanted to be able to see her own smile as she walked out of the doors of the hospital. She'd pause briefly and check her hair in the long mirror opposite the reception desk before continuing on her way. In the mirror she would see herself and nobody and nothing else.

"Oh, I think we can. In fact I'm sure of it. You just have to trust me."

"Of course, Doc. You know I trust you."

She was correct. He did know. As far as he was aware, all his patients trusted him implicitly. Even if they didn't like his treatment of them, they knew he was only doing his best for them. He wanted to make them better. He had to. Such had been his vocation for all of his adult life. With a father who had been committed when Edwards was just a boy and having seen him being dragged away to be locked up in an old fashioned 'looney bin' for the remainder of his years, the son was determined to help as many as he possibly could. Long gone were the days of barbaric treatments and conditions. Dr. Edwards was able to offer a level of real nurturing his father could only have dreamed of, if his dreams were not filled with hateful demons he insisted were eating him from the inside out.

"Good," he said. Remember that."

"What do you mean?"

Edwards touched her shoulder. It was a well-practised gesture of soothing comfort and affinity which, even if he didn't actually mean it, made the other person fall under his empathic spell.

"Just remember you trust me," he said.

Alice frowned. She didn't think that sounded particularly good. Of course she trusted him. What else could she do? She was under his supervision whether she liked it or not. Luckily, she liked it. He was one of the first people to seem bothered about her wellbeing. It could all be a facade and, if she peeked under its curtain, she might see a would-be wizard twiddling dials and pressing buttons as he wished he could just take the next hot air balloon back to Kansas. Alice2 had something about her and so did Dr. Edwards, except his 'something' was an air of positivity which enveloped you and held you safe.

"Sure thing," she said.

Her thoughts were not as certain as her words, but they agreed to disagree and kept their dispute to themselves. Edwards dropped his hand and began to loosen the straps holding her down.

"You're not going to cause any trouble, are you Alice?" he asked, pausing briefly.

"You know me," she said. "I'm a model citizen."

"Glad to hear it."

He pulled the restraints away and helped her to her feet. She was a full head smaller than him and he looked down at her. He could see very slight flecks of grey in her hair and felt for her. She was too young to have the stresses of delusion age her prematurely. Hopefully, his plan for her would prove rejuvenating for the poor girl.

"I'll see you in my office in thirty minutes, Alice."

"Okay, Dr. Edwards. Whatever I've done, I'm sorry."

He nodded and raised a hand. An orderly entered and escorted Alice back to her room. When they were gone, he picked up one of the restraints by the buckle. He pushed out the thin prong which was fed through the holes in the strap to hold it in place. Placing the tip in the centre of his palm, he squeezed his hand shut. Rather than wincing as it pierced his skin, he smiled, a small shudder running along his spine. Even the most rational of people in an asylum needed to know what pain felt like. How else could he help those who had suffered from it?

Thirty minutes is an eternity which can pass in the breath between one heartbeat and the next. For the doctor, he had to clean the blood and dress the wound on his hand. He needed to update Alice's file on recent events. Three telephone calls, two from family members of resident patients and one from a concerned father worried about his son. A fast shot of black Jack to warm his veins from the chill he constantly felt. He shivered at its heat, a paradox he often found engaging, and was surprised when he looked at the clock to see the time had passed.

Alice waited in her room. She tried to remember what had happened to cause her current predicament. Her mind was fuzzy. It usually was after what she liked to call an 'episode.' Well, 'like' was perhaps too strong a word. She felt obliged to call it that. She felt they were like an episode of a television programme you tried to watch when you were tired and struggling to stay awake. You'd insist you were awake, even though your head kept nodding against your chest. Then you woke when the closing credits were rolling, with no real idea of what had happened on the screen. When Alice had such an attack - though it was she who was the attacker - she found it difficult to recall the cause or the effects. It would have something to do with her family. Or mirrors. Or both. Someone would have been hurt, potentially more than one. Patient or member of staff, it didn't matter. The patients were her friends and the staff were her protectors. She would prefer not to hurt either. There were no reprimands after the fact. What was done was done and was left in the past where it belonged.

Still, Alice wanted to know. Needed to know. She hated what the reflections did to her. She was afraid of the shadows which shared their space in the glass. If she was unable to remember what had happened, she may never find the strength to fight them. She knew a hundred thousand mirrors could be broken, smashed into innumerable splinters, and it would mean nothing. There would always be more. There would always be the eyes and the teeth and the sickening smile of her sister.

The thirty minutes dragged by like the feet of a doomed man on his way to the gallows. She only wished, sometimes, it could be her hanging to end the torment.

A knock on the door signalled the end of her wait and she was led to Dr. Edwards' office.

"Come in," he said. "Sit down."

Alice did as she was asked. The orderly left after a nod from the doctor. He never felt in any danger, personally, from the girl. He did, however, know she was not going to like what he was going to say. Unfortunately, under the circumstances, his hands were tied. Generally, Alice's state of mind was steady, a boat afloat on troubled waters. Every so often, the ocean would swell as a storm approached and those around her needed to take shelter lest they drown when the boat capsized. Unless provoked, the sea remained uneasy but not overly angry. As such, if her family made a request, Edwards had to agree. They had brought her to the asylum. It was they who paid for her treatment, though he thought they were not particularly interested in her being really cured.

"What is it, Doc?" asked Alice. "Did I go too far? I haven't killed anyone, have I?"

"No!" Edwards laughed. "Nothing like that!"

"That's good. You had me worried."

"Don't be," he told her. "Everything is fine. You have a visitor, that's all."

"Oh?" Oh. The only people who might visit her were...

"It's your sister."

Before Alice could complain or refuse to see her twin, Alice2 was escorted into the office. Dr. Edwards stood and let her sit in his chair.

"Take a seat," he said. "I'll leave you two to it."

Normally, he had meetings between family members carried out in designated rooms. With Alice only just coming out of sedation, he wanted her in surroundings she felt safe in. His office was the closest he could come. It was tastefully and simply decorated. And, there were no mirrors. He left the room, intending on just having a pee break before returning. It was best not leave the siblings alone together for too long.

Alice and Alice2 looked at each other.

"Hi," said Alice.

"You got thin," said Alice2.