Horrorfest

6. Mirror Me

"That's a nice shade of lipstick there," I turned to the voice on my right. "What is it called?" 

"Scarlet Rose," I smiled nervously. Talking to strangers always make me anxious. I tried to stop my fingers from shaking involuntarily.

I turned my attention towards the mirror and tried to finish touching up my lipstick but my fingers were still shaking. I let out a helpless sigh and I could hear her stifle a giggle.

I shifted my gaze towards her. She had sparkling charcoal eyes and long straight hair that playfully covered her ample bosoms, the jet black tresses only served to accentuate her pale skin. There was not a single stray frizz on her hair and I almost felt envious. 

She edged closer to me and I tensed up. I don't like my personal space to be invaded. 

"That would go really well with my red dress," She moved even closer.  "May I use it?" It sounded more like a command then a question.

"N-n-no," I stammered. I am a bit of a germaphobe. I'm not sharing my lipstick with anyone.

I heard a tap running beside me at the other end of the sinks on my left and noticed a small petite woman washing her hands. She smiled our way. I did not realise there was another person in the restroom. I watched her walk away and closed the door behind her.

We were alone again.

The woman who wanted my lipstick...she looked crossed. Trying to sound convincing, I smiled again, "The shade that you're wearing now suits you more."

I lied. I hated lying. I quickly avoided eye contact and tried to finish what I started - touching up. I turned my head towards the mirror, hoping that her visual features had soften by then. Due to her standing really close to me, she would have now been in my mirror space.

She had no reflection.

My eyes flitted to the mirror beside me on my right. 

She still had no reflection. 

My breathing turned heavy. My hands were shaking. 

Maybe she entered a cubicle or something. I turned my head slowly towards my right, expecting to see a closed cubicle door.

She was still standing beside me.

My insides were screaming; A stark contrast to my frozen state.

Why can't I run away? Only my hands were moving. They were still shaking. Where did my lipstick go? My eyes flicked downwards.

She had no feet.

I shut my eyes, scared for my life. It just kept getting worse. 

Why can't I move my feet?

I braved myself to open my eyes and she was gone.

I looked over at the sink counter. My lipstick is not there. My peripheral vision caught sight of some movements in the mirror, most probably mine.

Looking up, I saw her again.

She was in the mirror, cackling menacingly with her bloodshot eyes and rotting flesh. Her hand holding my lipstick and spreading it across her decaying lips.