in my right mind

1

A tear-streaked face looked back at me as I glanced into the mirror with clenched fists. The image was unclear and broken under the many cracks of the old mirror that had belonged to the attic for the centuries my family had lived there. There were still tough blemishes on the surface which had refused to peel off when I had tried to scrub them off with a dirty rag which was all i could get my hands onto. I had succeeded in getting my hands bloody from the broken glass and little room for reflection. The broken image of a thin, starving girl dressed in oversized clothes was highly accurate though. The blemishes didn't fail to capture the dirt in her blood, and the cracks perfectly displayed her broken soul. For a while I just stared into those brown eyes, and let the deep hollow pits under them reflect the haunted nature of her soul and her weak frame to myself. Her cheekbones were held high with her jawbone studding out and her cheeks were pulled in, almost as if she were sucking them in on purpose. Her dry lips stood oversized under the thin frame of a nose which was red and sore. Her hair was dry and flaky and extremely messy and those brown thick locks hid half her face from view.

Her hands had now traced upwards until they held her weak torso as if she supported herself. An oversized tee-shirt hung over her shoulder like it would be hung over a hanger. So big, but so inefficient in the cold. The old pair of jeans that hung below was cut up and frisked at the bottom so as not to trip her and tied with a string at the navel to anchor it to a hip that was nonexistent.

Tremendous shivers began rolling at her teeth as they clashed in stormy anger. As I looked into the frame I saw her knees bend and felt my knees give way. Slowly with shivers that were as much from crying as the cold, I lowered down to the ground and closed my eyes, covering as much of my body with my weak arms as i rested against the wall facing the mirror. Violent hiccups errupted from the pit of my stomach and my eyes dried up. My lips were parched so dry that they would flake off if touched.

Slowly, my anger had turned into hurt and hurt had turned into a quite storm that had been brewing for a while. Outside, the pitter patter became violent and thunder struck.