Author's note: You are beautiful. Jus' sayin'.
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Humming along to X Ambassadors' song, "Unconsolable," Narcissa brought her brush to her hair and froze. Her reflection wasn't moving. While her arms were up and at her head, its arms were to its sides. It was staring at her. Waiting.
She slowly lowered her arms, not daring to take her eyes off her reflection for a millisecond, and took a single step back. Her reflection raised one hand and beckoned her closer to the mirror with a curling finger.
Narcissa bolted from the room. Heart beating erratically, she ran down the hallway calling for her mother. "MOM!"
Rose was in the kitchen pouring coffee into a thermos. At the sudden shout, she spilled some over her hand and let out a guttural, "Ouch!"
"Mom! Come quick!" Narcissa grabbed her mother's arm and tugged. More coffee splashed onto the counter. "It's the mirror! My reflection–!"
"Would you stop it? I just burned my hand!"
Narcissa shot a glance over her shoulder to where her bedroom was located, worried that the reflection would come charging out at any moment. "But, Mom–! My reflection...it's alive!"
Her mother gave her an incredulous look and said, "That's because you're alive."
"That's not–! Would you just come and see?"
Rose set down the pot of coffee and reluctantly followed. Once in front of the vanity, she frowned. The skin on her hand had turned a painful shade of pink where the coffee had burned. "What's wrong with it?"
Too afraid to stand before it, Narcissa pointed at the mirror from behind her mother. "The reflection. Mine was moving on its own like there was another person on the other side. It told me to come closer."
Rose blinked at the mirror, raised her arms up and down, and watched unamused as her reflection did the same. She brought her face close to the glass. "Is it April?"
"What?"
"Is it April?" Rose asked again. "Have I just been fooled?"
Narcissa yelled at her mother. "This isn't a joke! It really did move on its own."
"Well, it's not now. Consider it fixed." Rose stepped away and made to leave the bedroom. "We're going to be late, so hurry up. I'll meet you in the car."
Once more alone with the vanity, Narcissa began to tremble. Her frightened face stared back. She raised her hand and waved. Her reflection waved back.
There was a loud honk from the driveway. Narcissa jumped at the sound. She hurried to grab her backpack and phone, and raced out the door without a backward glance. That was unfortunate. If she had looked back, she would have seen her reflection still waving.
Narcissa couldn't focus all day. Her teachers noticed. She was in English class when she felt a poke in her side. Zoe regarded her with an odd look and inclined her head to the front of the room in a sort of unspoken "Look-there-you-idiot." That was when she noticed most of the class was staring at her, including the teacher.
"Sorry?" Narcissa asked, sitting up straighter.
Mr. Turner was nice, though, as most English teachers were. He didn't pester her with questions of what she had been thinking about or try to embarrass her any more than she already was. "I was hoping you could tell us why Dorian was so intent on keeping his portrait even though he knew what it was doing to him?"
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Narcissa - Dark Reflections
Teen FictionWhen Narcissa's mother buys her an antique vanity imported from Africa, things start to change. Her reflection has a life of its own. COMPLETE