Mirror

R e f l e c t i o n

W A R N I N G:

I'm not sure if this scene requires a trigger warning, but I will say that it is rather disturbing. It blurs the line between reality and Jae-hyun's thoughts more than during previous chapters and there is one mention of abuse.

|| e d i t e d ||

"I fall apart, you fill up the empty spaces" ~ Chase Atlantic, I DON'T LIKE DARKNESS

"Everyone else knows where they're supposed to be, but only I walk without purpose. But still, blending in with them is more comfortable. Dduksum - which has swallowed up the night - hands me an entirely different world" ~ RM, Reflection

반사

R e f l e c t i o n

~ Jae-hyun ~

I CAN'T BREATHE.

Around me, the world teeters. The vanity, the still-broken mirror, the flimsy shower curtain and the chipped tiles on the wall - the scene of this apartment's shabby bathroom is rocking back and forth with me.

I can't breathe.

Thrumming like rain on a rooftop, my pulse echoes beneath every inch of my skin. I can feel it race in my fingertips as they tug frantically at my hair, in my toes curled uncomfortably in my damp socks, and even in my ass - on the verge of going numb after having been pressed painfully into the cold, hard floor for too long. In my head especially, it beats, setting my thoughts even more astray than they usually are.

I can't breathe.

Above the sink, the reflection in the mirror is not my own. It's familiar, bearing my full lips and my high cheek bones, but those eyes . . . they can't be mine. I don't want to believe it. I won't believe it. Somehow both unseeing and all knowing, they swirl with bitter smugness and disappointment. A blank, scowl that coupled with such a dead, unblinking stare, should never be displayed so viciously on my brother's face.

"Ji-han," I whisper, the sound little more than a scratchy exhale of air. How is this possible? He can't be here. Or can he be? Did he even leave? Behind my eyes and in my head, my thoughts are an uncontrollable maelstrom. The lifeless black of his irises - of his hair, the twisted maliciousness of his expression, the pale rose tinge to his mouth, and the deathly white tone of his face - they flash across my mind like angry strokes of a paintbrush. Violent and messy, they stain my vision, seeping into the walls of the bathroom and dripping from the cracks in the mirror like spilt ink.

Heavy, ebony splotches turn crimson upon touching his reflection. Bile rises to the back of my throat, but I grate my teeth together and force myself to choke it down. Though what I remember her doing is unlikely to be real, my mother's reaction to me vomiting on the carpet during the last accident remains a vivid memory of mine. It may not be the truth but I have a sick feeling that it's not too far off. Beside the scar on my cheek from that night all those weeks ago when I first stumbled miserably into Jimin's life, another shallow slice burns, stinging as tears wet the panes of my face.

I squeeze my eyes shut, throwing my head back hard against the tiled wall. The ache resounds through my entire being, but for a beautiful, brief second everything pauses. There is no ink. No blood. No cruel and terrifying version of Ji-han in the mirror. My world and everything in it slows to a mitigating stop and I can breathe.