It was a normal action that someone would never think would lead to such a strange path. I was watching DVDs of old TV shows that I owned, switching between Supernatural and Grimm when the itch started. My right eye bothered me the rest of that week. One day I rubbed it so much the white of my eye stayed red until the next morning. After the second week I gave in to seeing a doctor. The morning of I brushed my teeth with a blank look as I stared into the mirror. I looked down briefly then back to the mirror and a different face stared back at me. The sight made me jump and I dropped my toothbrush into the sink. Then it was gone, and only my own shocked face stared back at me. It happened so fast the first time I thought I'd imagined it, but for the rest of the day whenever I caught my reflection that other face stared back at me. It only ever lasted a second, enough to make me jump each time. After it was gone I couldn't even describe it, except one feature. The face's startling blue eyes were burned into my memory from the first time it appeared instead of my reflection. They were unnerving, nothing like my own green eyes. This went on for another week until those eyes were the only things I would see when I closed my own eyes to rest.

"I think I'm going crazy," I said, flopping down on my couch. It had been a long day at work. Fact checking an article about different lipstick colors being able to match a girl's aura and what it says about that individual turned out to be taxing. And incredibly boring. It was a thoughtless job that I needed to pay the bills. But if I play my cards right it can get me to the writer status at the Alternative Fashion magazine. The annoying part was I kept catching that stranger's refection in my computer. A distraction I really could do without.

"I don't believe that is accurate." I snap up into a sitting position at the sound of the voice. It was deep, gruff, and completely unfamiliar.

"Who's there?" I said pulling out the small saltshaker I kept in my pocket. Scrambling off the couch, I went into one of the defensive positions I learned from my self-defense classes. I wildly looked around the empty room but there was no one there. "Show yourself!"

"I am not sure how to answer that question," he said. I decided it was a he, based off the sound of the voice.

"You don't know who you are?" I said. It was stupid talking to whatever this thing was, I should make a salt circle and call Father Patrick for help. What if it was a ghost though it doesn't feel any colder? It could be a demon, but I don't smell sulfur. Whatever it was, it certainly couldn't be human.

"None of that is necessary, I assure you. I mean you no harm," he said, in that same deadpan calm voice.

"So now you can read my mind. Peachy," I said. That thought made me pause. I hadn't heard the voice, not in the way a person would listen to music or talk to another human being. "You're in my head."

"I believe that is correct," he said. I just stood there for a second in disbelief. I really must be going crazy. The belief in the supernatural was normal. I could handle a monster or ghost or even a demon, I was prepared for those encounters. But some sort of disembodied voice in my head? What in the world was I suppose to do about that?

"Well, get the heck out!" I shouted. At the time, yelling out my fear seemed like the best idea.

"I will try," he said. There was this warmth in my chest and a ringing in my ears. My eyesight blurred for a minute. I rubbed my eyes hard. When I reopened them I saw myself, standing so close our noses almost touched. I jumped backwards into the couch; my balance wavered as I tried not to fall. The other me tilted her head to the side and stared at me questioningly. It was like looking at a mirror. She had my brown haired tied back in a braid wearing my favorite faded blue jeans and black spaghetti strap top. No shoes, just like me. The brown belt she was wearing even had my baby blue rosary strapped to it. I cautiously step closer and tossed the salt I was still clutching in my right hand at the figure. It passed right through. Not doing it any harm. "Is this acceptable?" The double said, but it wasn't my voice. It was deep like a man's voice, like the voice inside my head. This was bizarre.

"Why do you look like me?" I said.

"I had no other reference. I do not remember my own form," he said. Or would it be 'she' now? I think I'll stick with 'he'.

"I need help," I said, walking to the kitchen table to fetch my cell phone. I paced around my small apartment as the phone rang. Grabbing my waterproof duffel bag from under my bed, I started to pack the essentials. Clothes, hygiene products, salt, holy water, and money. My double watched my every move with an indifferent look on his face. It felt like an eternity before Father Patrick picked up. "Hi Father, its me, Danny. No, not so much. I really need to talk to you," I said into the receiver, "in person. Can I come over tonight? I know it's late, but something." I paused and looked over at my double that still hadn't really moved from the spot he appeared, before dropping my full duffel bag on the couch. "Something strange has happened. It's not dangerous just strange. Thank you. I'll see you soon." I hung up and began to dial again this time to the Magazine where I work. Thankfully Matt was still there working late, I told him I had to take time off for at least a week. Family emergency. He understood, plus I'm sure it helped that I never take sick days. I grabbed my duffel bag, collected my keys, and locked up the place nice and tight. My double followed me wordlessly out to my car, he probably already knew where we were going.

Father Patrick only lived a half an hour drive away and it was a quiet ride at first. I would even go so far and call it awkward having my double sitting in the passenger's seat. The music playing on the radio was some indie rock channel; I was drumming my fingers on the wheel along to the song.

"I make you uncomfortable," my double said, it wasn't a question. His voice spooked me a bit, but thankfully I barely swerved on the nearly empty street.

"Its not everyday a disembodied voice with amnesia starts talking to me inside my head," I said. It made me feel better saying that out loud. Not less crazy but better. "You really don't remember anything?"

"It is all very fuzzy," he said, there was a hint of worry in his voice. It was barely there, but I could hear it all the same. I think I could even feel it.

"You need a name then. How about David?" I said. It was the first name that popped into my head, the name of a little boy who took down a giant. That was my favorite bible story growing up.

"David was indeed very brave. I will accept that name," he said.

"You're reading my thoughts again aren't you? In some cultures that would be considered rude," I said with a smile. Maybe this guy isn't so bad if he knows the story of David and Goliath.

"I apologize," he said, shifting in his seat. I could feel the sincerity rolling off of him.

"Dude, it was a joke," I said, my smile growing. It was quiet for a moment again and then I heard the quiet 'oh' he gave as a response. I burst out laughing. Something about the seriousness of this guy was just endearing. By the time I pulled into Father Patrick's driveway I had already gotten use to this unreal person's presence. The front door was open, with Father Patrick standing in the threshold wearing casual dress. I locked up the car and the Father greeted me at the door with a warm hug. It had been a while since I last visited and the gesture was comforting. He led me into the kitchen where we sat down with a cup of hot tea. I took my time explaining what had been happening over the past few weeks starting with the face that I kept seeing instead of my own reflection. He listened patiently and didn't interrupt even when I paused every once in a while to look over at my double. David, as I am now going to call him, kept walking around the room looking at the photos of family and friends Father Patrick decorated his walls with. It was really distracting.

"I'm going crazy aren't I?" I said when I completed my tale. I saw David open his mouth to say something, probably to correct me about being crazy, but I sent him a glare and he quickly looks away. Father Patrick follows my gaze with a look of confusion and then turns back to me.

"Do you see him now? What does he look like?" Father Patrick said.

"He looks like me. He said he can't remember what he looks like, he doesn't remember anything," I said then drank a big gulp of my tea. Jasmine. Not as sweet as I usually take it, but that wasn't really a priority right now. "You really can't see him?" Father Patrick shook his head, then stood up from the table. He walked into the living room for a minute; I finished my tea while I waited. When he came back, he was carrying a thick leather bound notebook that was worn from use with loose papers trapped between the pages. He set it on the table and began to leaf through it.

"A good friend of mine encountered something similar a few months back. A young man from her parish started hearing a voice that was soon followed by a full apparition taking on a form in his likeness. He too grew up with the knowledge of the supernatural, which she claims was the only reason he went to her for help instead of a medical professional. I was asked to look into it but never found anything concrete," he said.

"What happened to him?" I said, hesitation in my voice. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.

"Leah told me miracles started to follow the boy around and he stopped looking into a way to remove the presence. She said it changed him." I think Father Patrick could see my hands shake; he said I should stay the night and try to ignore David. He was going to make a few phone calls and get me some help. A makeshift bed was made up for me on his couch. I laid there staring at the ceiling in the dark long after Father Patrick went up stairs to sleep. Even though I couldn't see David, I could still feel his presence sitting on the lounge chair across the room. It made me feel restless. I tapped my fingers on the cushion to a toneless song in my head.

"You are afraid, but not of me. I do not understand," David said in a quiet whisper. I sighed; I should have followed the Father's advice and ignored him. It would have been the smart thing to do. After all David could be some sort of evil entity trying to slowly influence my actions and take over my life. I never claimed to be smart.

"I'm afraid of how this thing will affect my life. I'm afraid of what something like you might attract, but you yourself don't feel dangerous. So you can feel my emotions too, huh?" I said, pulling the checkered quilt over my head. My face felt hot with embarrassment, which he could probably feel as well.

"You can feel mine," he said and it was true even though I was starting to think this guy didn't have any emotions. "I never asked for your name, despite you asking for mine. I should have asked that would have been the polite thing to do." I smile a little at his conclusion.

"It's Danielle, but I like being called Danny," I said.

"It is nice to meet you Danny Hunter," he said, but I hadn't told him my last name. So how could he know? What else did he know about me, about my life? How long has he been rooting around in my head already? I didn't want to admit it but I think I already knew the answer. My nerves were back.

"We should get some sleep," I said turning on to my side so I faced the back of the couch. There was this warm feeling in my chest again as I felt David retreat deep into my subconscious. I wondered if he was going to sleep tucked away between my memories. Maybe he would appear in my dreams. I closed my eyes and waited to slip into sleep.