The Mirror in the Third Bedroom: Part Four

I watched as my feet carried me upstairs.   My hand reached out as I turned the door knob.  We were in the third bedroom. 
The ghost slowly lifted my head and forced me to look into the mirror.

My face frightened me.  My sunken eyes were rimed with dark circles, and I looked no more like a  youthful teenager, but someone 50 years older.  My skin had turn a shade greyer, and my cheekbones stuck out a sharp angles.  My eyes, my eyes! They protruded out almost from my gaunt face, wide eyed and staring, the same piercing grey which had once caused me much vanity, now frightened me. They were bright with the horror I was feeling.  
At the same moment,  I began to fill a bit warmer.  The numbing cold that had consumed me for the last week suddenly began to subside.  I began to see light colored smoke rise up out of me.  No, it was not smoke, it was too solid, yet somehow as transparent as air.  As the ghost left my body, I felt my body warm, and life return to my limbs, my mind regained its previous keenness.  The ghost was leaving, I was sure of it now.  It seemed to be escaping from any part of me it could, my back, my knees, my finger tips.  It flowed out of me like wisps of smoke before it solidified, no not solidified, before it accumulated just behind me.  I finally had a chance to look at it's face.  It indeed had a face.  The rest of its body was constantly shifting, as if it were a struggle to try to make itself into a coherent form.  But the face was clear. I could hear myself screaming.  Now I realized why that face I had caught a glimpse of was so familiar.   The aged gaunt face, the dark circles, the eyes.  The unblinking grey staring eyes.  My eyes.  Perhaps I had not realized it before, when my face was filled with youth and my mind could think of lighter things, but now, as I stood staring at the mirror in the third bedroom, I knew.  As I stared into the face of the ghost, I stared into my own face.  Suddenly the murmuring sound grew clear and became one booming voice that rattled the house. 
"I am Rebecca Jones" the voice said behind me.  My voice.
Image credit