Black Swan

No. 7 Sujet

My bedroom mirror.

Quiet. Silence. A knock on the door.

"Luhan?" the voice is familiar.

I stare at my reflection,

A tremor of my heart.

Prickled skin, a stab of pain

What is that?

I feel between my shoulder blades - what - incomprehensible...

I... I... a what?

A feather.

A black feather.

Where did it come from?

The feather is jagged and rough,

Sharp like the edge of a knife.

It pierces my index finger until there is red,

Red and nothing else - red - why red? Why this colour?

I'm scared.

So many questions.

I stare at my reflection,

It doesn't know the answer and neither do I.

Index finger pressed against thumb,

I pluck it out, and it stings.

I feel a tear drip down my cheek.

Blood?

Maybe.

Swollen eyes, reddened at the edges, bloodshot.

A digit presses against skin

And I don't understand, can't understand.

Too much red - I... I... - a feather?

Why a feather?

Why a swan feather?

"Luhan?"

There is desperation in the voice.

A pound, one, two, three, knocking at the door.

My head, it hurts. I hold it between my palms.

Knock, knock.

Knock.

Stop.

Knock.

Please.

"Go away!" I scream.

"Luhan what is going on?"

"Go away!"

Knock.

Knock.

Silence.

What is happening to me?