The Reflection

The Reflection Within

It was an old, ornate mirror, one that had been in our family for generations. The frame was gilded with intricate floral patterns, slightly tarnished with age, and the glass itself was a little warped, adding an almost surreal quality to whatever it reflected. I had always found it fascinating, but it wasn't until that fateful night that I discovered its true nature.

I was alone in my room, the soft glow of my desk lamp casting a warm light over my scattered homework and the neglected novel I'd been meaning to finish. The house was quiet, my parents having gone out for the evening. It was just me and my thoughts—the perfect environment for the unsettling events that would unfold.

As I stood in front of the mirror, brushing my hair, I noticed something odd. My reflection seemed off. It wasn't just the usual distortion caused by the age of the glass. There was something in my eyes—a glint that didn't belong to me. I leaned in closer, squinting at the glass. My reflection mimicked me perfectly, but the expression was wrong. It was too intense, almost predatory.

A chill ran down my spine. I stepped back, trying to shake off the creeping unease. My reflection did the same, but there was a flicker of something else in those eyes—something darker. I tried to laugh it off, telling myself it was just my imagination. But as I turned to leave, I saw it.

The reflection didn't move with me. It stayed rooted in place, staring at me with a twisted smirk that I knew I'd never made. My heart pounded in my chest, and my mouth went dry. I turned back to face the mirror, my hands trembling. The girl in the mirror—me, but not me—cocked her head to the side, as if studying me.

"Who are you?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. The reflection's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than mine. "I am you," it said, the voice a perfect replica of my own but laced with malice. "The side you keep hidden. The side you don't want to acknowledge."

I shook my head, stepping back further. "This isn't real. You're not real." "Oh, but I am," it replied, taking a step forward, even though I hadn't moved. "I'm the part of you that you bury deep inside. The anger, the jealousy, and the fear. I'm all of it."

I felt a tear slip down my cheek. This couldn't be happening. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that when I opened them again, everything would be normal. But when I did, she was still there, closer now, her eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Because it's time you faced the truth," the reflection said, reaching out a hand as if to touch the glass. "You can't keep running from me. From yourself."

I wanted to scream and run, but my feet felt rooted to the spot. The room seemed to close in around me, the air thick with tension. The reflection's hand pressed against the glass, and to my horror, the surface began to ripple like water. Her hand started to emerge, her fingers curling around the edge of the frame.

"No!" I cried, finally finding my voice. "Stay away from me!" But it was too late. The hand broke free, followed by an arm, then a shoulder. She was pulling herself out of the mirror, and I was powerless to stop it. Desperation took over, and I grabbed the nearest thing—a heavy book—and hurled it at the mirror.

The glass shattered with a deafening crash, with shards flying everywhere. I fell to the floor, covering my face with my arms. When the noise finally died down, I looked up, breathing hard. The mirror was in pieces; the reflection was gone.

I scrambled to my feet, my heart still racing. The room was silent once more, but it felt different, as if a weight had been lifted. I looked at the largest shard of glass on the floor, seeing only my own frightened reflection.

Had it all been in my head? A hallucination brought on by stress and isolation? I didn't know. But one thing was certain—I would never look at myself the same way again. The darker side of me, the side I had seen in the mirror, was real. It was a part of me, and I couldn't deny it any longer.

As I stood there, staring at the broken mirror, I realized that facing my darkness was the only way to truly understand myself. And maybe, just maybe, it was the first step toward finding some measure of peace.