Everyone has their demons

Hidden behind their eyes

Or rather, people are the demons

Simply in disguise.

They lay asleep inside our heads

Until they hear the lies

Our pain and suffering and heartbroken cries

Will cause them to arise.

Once awakened, they can't be controlled

No matter how hard you try

The one you loved is forever gone

Just a demon behind those eyes.

My brother used to tell me that poem every night before I would go to sleep. I always thought it was a silly tale he had come up with when his boyfriend left. I never thought of the truth behind those words that had become my nightly lullaby.

It's been years since I last heard that poem from my brother, or anything from him at all. We had a bit of an argument many years ago, when I had finally decided to move out. We haven't spoken to each other since then, even though we see each other at least once a month at world meetings, but for some reason, those words have been echoing through my head all day. I could hardly pay attention to the meeting, but then again, when do I ever pay attention? The meeting had been unproductive as usual, and had, luckily, ended rather quickly. I was in the middle of packing up my papers when I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Hey America."

I looked up to see my neighbor, what's-his-face. Okay, that's not his name, but we don't talk very much, so I've never really gotten to know him. Hell, he speaks so quietly that I wouldn't have even heard him if he did tell me his name. All I know is that we look very similar with similar glasses and overall complexion, aside from he has amethyst-colored eyes and hippie hair, while I have sapphire-blue eyes and super sweet hair. "Hey… you," I responded. He looked at me with large, hurt-filled eyes. "You still don't remember who I am? I'm Canada. I thought you'd remember me from when our brothers were dating." He looked down, trying to hide his face. I assumed he was crying, which was surprising because I had only said two words. 'New personal record, I guess.'

"Okay, Canada, what do you need? Although I am the hero, I still have other things I need to get done today, so please hurry."

"I was just going to ask if you were alright. You stared at the wall for the entire meeting and only blinked four times. We tried to get your attention, but you didn't respond. Everyone thought you were going insane," he whispered. 'I guess he makes up for his volume with how long he can talk.'

"I'm fine, dude. Just been having a hard time concentrating today is all."

He smiled slightly and nodded. "Alright." He turned and left me alone in the room. I quickly packed up my stuff and left.

I headed back to my hotel room, which was about a block away. I hurried into the hotel up to my room. I had to get that damn rhyme out of my head or I would go insane! I thought maybe watching some TV would numb my mind, like it usually did. But since I wasn't in my country, or any real English-speaking country, all of the shows were in German, which only confused me more. I turned off the TV and laid in bed. It was only 5:00, but I wasn't planning on doing anything, nor did I want to stay awake hearing that dumb poem on mental repeat. I stared at the ceiling until I finally fell asleep.

I only had ten minutes to get ready for the meeting. I rushed around trying to get everything together, but was suddenly drawn to look at the mirror. I didn't know why I was so interested in the mirror. 'I mean, it's just a mirror. There's nothing special about it. It's my reflection, so what? I mean, there's that one hair that always sticks up, and there are my eyes, red as usual.' Wait, red eyes? My eyes are blue. I looked closer at the reflection. It looked like it was supposed to be me, but it had darker hair and wasn't wearing glasses. I rubbed my eyes, thinking I was hallucinating, but nothing had changed. The reflection's fiery eyes stared into mine. It held a finger up to its lips, as if to tell me to keep quiet about something, and then it winked.

I woke up in a cold sweat. 'Why was my reflection different, and what am I supposed to keep quiet about?' I put on my glasses and looked over at the clock. The meeting wasn't scheduled to start for another hour, but there was absolutely no way I was going back to sleep. I got out of bed and went into the bathroom to freshen up. The entire time I was brushing my teeth, I was staring at my reflection, making sure it was actually my reflection. The coloring was correct, as were the movements. I was interrupted by a knock at the door. I went over to the door and looked out the spyhole. It was Canada, but he looked different today. He was dressed in a red flannel shirt and had his hair pulled back into a ponytail. I opened the door.

"Sup Canadia?" 'Fuck, that's not right.' Maybe he didn't notice.

He pushed his way into the room and stared at me as I closed the door. He was very quiet, as usual, but this was a different sort of quiet. He made no attempt to speak or anything. All he did was stare at me.

"Dude, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to tell me why you're here? And are you wearing contacts or something? You don't have your glasses and your eyes look different." They appeared to be almost a dull red color from where I was standing. 'Maybe it's just the light.' He continued to just watch me. Something was definitely wrong; my hero senses were going crazy.

I walked away from the door into the kitchen. "So, um… You want some toast or something before the meeting?" No reply. I shrugged and made a few slices for myself. If I was going to save the day again from the Commies, I definitely needed some fuel. And, maybe, eating could take my mind off of the awkward Canadian in the other room. As I was eating, I thought about my dream from the night before. It was so weird; the reflection had looked like me, but at the same time, it didn't. And now Canada was dressing and acting weird. Was it just a coincidence?

I was brought back to reality when I felt something grab my shoulder. I looked back and, of course, it was him. "Ok dude, cut it out. This whole Silent-Death-Glare thing isn't funny anymore." He didn't move. I tried to make him let go of my shoulder, but he tightened his grip. "Dude, let go! You're freaking me out!"

Without warning, he knocked me out of the chair and pinned me to the floor with his foot. For looking so small, he was actually very strong. "What the hell, man?" He looked down at me. "Do you remember me yet?" Even his voice sounded different, but at least he was finally talking. "Yeah, we talked just yesterday. I'm pretty sure I'd remember my own neighbor." "I don't believe you. If you remembered me, you would've known that my name is not Canadia," he frowned as he pressed harder. I grimaced. "Dude, get off! You're actually hurting me!" He smiled and kneeled down, his knee replacing where his boot had been on my chest. "You think this hurts? Believe me, I can make you hurt more." He laughed as he stood back up and headed for the door. I remained lying on the floor, trying to catch my breath. "And by the way," he called back as he opened the door, "my name's no longer Canada. From now on, my name is Matt."