Reverie [The Distortionist x reader]

Chapter 16

(Art by archangel-arts on Tumblr)

TW: Suicidal themes

The victim of a massacre

Was none other than poor me

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Amidst the whispering low spikes of a distant crushing of glass rings out a foreboding and almost melodic panting, a rasping breath, overpowering the smashing. For you, an ultimatum. The choice between desperately running, knocking into shattered mirrors, trying to escape the talons of an unseen beast, or between sinking down, making yourself unseen, praying the creature went the other way in a labyrinth of many curls and perplexities.

Instead, fear grips you quicker than the brute did. It takes its hold on your throat, which is itching to scream. It makes your legs want to move, run, escape, but it is too much. They break down and you collapse into a mound of cloth and skin, shuddering, on the verge of tears. Whatever logic you have left tries to make it so you can act and survive, but that part of you is waning, soon to be reduced to nothing. All you can do is sit there, shaking, waiting for the beast to find you, no matter how hard you try to stand up.

"You can get out of this!" a small voice suddenly speaks. You look to your side, to the origin of the words. A small, handheld mirror lays cracked on the floor. It looks just like the mirror in your bathroom... Breathing in deeply, you crawl over to it, and use a quivering hand to lift it up, so you can look into it.

A predictably distorted image of yourself peers back at you from the world behind the glass. Each fracture splits you into another individual, so it seems like many people are there. The funny thing is, they all look different from each other, but they all look identical to you.

"Just listen to us and you'll be fine," they murmur, so your company doesn't hear. "Do you trust us?"

"Why would I not trust myself?" you whisper back.

"Because of what we're about to tell you."

"What is it?"

"To get out of this world without Chris's help, you need to..." The last part is unintelligible.

"Speak a little louder, please."

"You need to take that shard over there."

All of their heads gesture toward one side, and you glance at it. A large shard of one of the broken mirrors lays in the middle of the path. Being careful not to cut yourself, you pick it up. "What now?"

"Stab yourself."

"W-What...?"

"You heard us."

"I'm not doing that!"

They sigh. "Keep it with you. We're sure you'll change your mind."

"Hey!" To your dismay, the reflection's mouth moves with yours when you exclaim that. It's just another image of yourself now. The mirror falls out of your hand and clatters on the floor.

The breathing, still echoing between walls of mirrors, hitches as the handheld mirror falls. This sound chills you more than you thought possible. It told you something simple: the beast knows of your presence. What's left to do is run.

You take the large shard simply for protection and your legs shakily hoist your body into a standing position before making your hurl through the glass-lined halls. Your heart pounds quicker than your feet do on the floor, and you feel unsteady as you run as fast as you can, just thrusting yourself forward, no matter any of the mirrors. Though you do try to avoid crashing into mirrors, you sometimes do, and your dress and skin are gradually torn to shreds by the glass as it falls to the ground. You don't mind the pain as long as your legs are working and your lungs are gasping in enough air to fuel this long run.