Death Has Wings

Mirrors, Who Needs Them?

I jolted at the sound of knocking on my door. The headache was now full scale and hurting like Hell. I stood up and slowly opened my door. Clarice was standing just outside with a quite concerned look on her face.

"Clark, are you okay?" She studied me up and down. I nodded and she walked away, whispering to herself.

I watched her walk down the stairs and then left my room. I needed to check for what she could've been so concerned about. I went to the bathroom.

I looked in the mirror above the sink at my reflection. My eyes had turned black, like the pupil had taken over. I had fresh blood on my lips, dripping down my chin and onto my shirt. My hair was matted and scruffy, clumps of blood drying in it. I tried to look away but I couldn't. It was if I was glued to the spot. I was forced to look into the surreal image before me.

My hands gripped the edge of the sink. I could feel my arms shaking violently as I stared at the horror in the mirror. I tried to make a sound but none came out.

As I looked closer, I noticed that two black wings were behind me. I reached for them behind me to see if they were real or just my imagination. My fingers landed on blood soaked feathers. I recoiled my hand at the shock.

I shut my eyes tight. I raised my hands to my temples. I felt the room spin around me. I heard someone shouting my name, but it sounded so far away. I fell to the floor, my head still in my hands. Screaming surrounded me. I could smell blood. Lots of it. A burning pain in my chest snapped me back into reality.

Mother was screaming in the doorway, crying her eyes out, her hands covering her mouth. Father was on the phone in the hallway, pacing, shouting for an ambulance. I was confused until I looked down. A glass shard was plunged into my chest at an odd angle. The mirror was in pieces on the floor around me. Blood was dripping from the sink, onto the floor.

The burning in my chest grew bigger as it spread to my arms and my stomach. Mother fell to my side, her hands shaking. She was sobbing hysterically. Father was still pacing in the hallway. Mother tried to hold my hand but she couldn't grip properly due to the shaking. She looked so frail as tears rolled down her cheeks.

My vision started to fade as I heard the piercing cry of sirens pull up to the house.