My Reflection Keeps Talking To Me

I'd never hurt my reflection! Here, let me tell you how nicely I treat it.
At four in the morning, on the dot, I wake up and immediately go to my bathroom mirror. I've repeated this process every day, never missing the exact time once.
My reflection always talks to me, but since we are divided by a fine glass structure, I find it hard to hear him. Easy solution - I had learned to lip read ever since I was a young boy. 
He repeats the same thing every morning I speak with him, "Give me a glass of water." I bolt towards the kitchen, take out a glass, pour water into the glass, then I return. I put the glass down onto the sink and watch him as he deliciously downs the whole drink in one second.
I do the same, but a little bit slower, taking in the warmness of the beautiful, fine liquid.
Dinner arrives - oh! What a joy! I place myself on the table where I feast, not forgetting to include my mirror mate. Me and him eat, oh, so good!
The delicious delight almost makes me burst.
I have never ever, in my entire life, damaged my reflection. No dents, no scrapes, no nothing. Pure cleanness wins the day.
My doctor knows not. He says I am mad - ha! He is rightfully wrong. He tells me I need breaks, or I need to "relax", and he prescribes me medicine. He knows nothing. Madmen need breaks. Madmen need to relax. Madmen need medicine. I am no madman. He is the mad one here. Riddance of his existence would be fruitful.
I took it upon myself to make sure he speaks no more. He is the one who will take the medicine.
I place myself in the driver's seat of my car and start to boot up the engine. I put the car mirror in the view of myself, speaking to my reflection along the way.
I arrive at the doctor's house, not knowing where to begin. My reflection tells me to start by the bathroom window, as the bathroom would most likely have a mirror located in it. I untighten the screws on the window and I creep inside, not making a peep. 
As I stare into the mirror, my reflection pulls a sledgehammer out of nowhere and places it on the sink and - wow! It appears on the sink!
I creep down the hallway, not making a single sound. I (soon enough) arrive at his bedroom door. I open the door and take a peek. He's wide awake. I can tell. I'm guessing that his superstitions caught up with him, or maybe... nevermind.
I stand in his doorway for about half an hour, watching as he squirms and struggles to get back to sleep. He's trying to calm himself, I can tell. It's not going to work, doctor. I think you need to relax. 
I time the perfect time to pounce, and - now! I swing the sledgehammer swiftly at his soft skull! He tries to let out a scream but is interrupted by the fierce fury of the ferocious weapon. I feel like I might burst! He falls to the ground, the blood seeping onto the floor. 
It was very easy to dispose of the corpse, I burnt him in his own fireplace! The blood was easily swept up by a singular mop. What was the cover-up story? Glad you asked! He had left the country to become a professional surgeon! The perfect cover-up for the perfect crime! 
I drive back home, admiring my reflection on the way.
At four in the morning, on the dot, I woke up and immediately went to my bathroom mirror. He said something different today, "Fetch me a glass of water."
I run to the kitchen and pour the water into the glass. I come back and watch as he deliciously downs the whole drink.
I couldn't drink it. I wasn't thirsty. I left my full glass out in the kitchen and poured the liquid into the sink. I had to ask myself, "Is this even water? Or is it all just a facade?" 
I came back to the bathroom, only to be greeted by my reflection speaking through the glass. I was fully capable of hearing him. What was this madness?
"Daring today, aren't we?"
"What?"
"You want to be different now. After all this time of the same routine, this is the day you want to be different!?"
"Why are you acting irrationally!?"
"That's the same question I'm asking you. But that doesn't matter. You really want to show your true colours NOW? Go ahead. Be my guest."
He pulls out the same sledgehammer again, the same one used to kill the doctor. 
"Do it. Destroy me. You want to be different? Destroy me!"
"No, no, no! I can't!"
"Destroy me! Destroy me! Show them all! Show them all! Show them all who you truly are!"
I swung the hammer at the mirror, smashing it into little, tiny pieces. I was free. I could show them who I truly am.
"Give me a glass of water," I said to myself.
Category:Mirrors
Category:Mental Illness
Category:Weird