Mirror

O

There's a ghost on the mirror, I see her every time I look.

Her dark hair falls to her shoulders and pale skin stretches over sunken cheekbones. Dull green eyes stare at me blankly as I look, assessing my movements.

I look behind her at the wall and see a pretty shelf. It has swirls and twirls, the dark metal bent in intricate patterns with glass gems wedged in between as to appear fancy. On the shelf there are an arrangement of items. There are daisies with yellow tulips sitting in a glass vase and a delicate bowl filled with rocks, along side a yellow polka-dotted candle next to it. Above those are rolls of wipes and clear hand soap.

I wave and she waves back a frail, bony hand. As she waves her sleeve falls down to her elbow, displaying the pink scars that mar her forearms. She raises a thin eyebrow as I do and gasps. My mouth pops open as hers does and both of our lips form a small 'o'.

I continue my trail downwards, searching her body curiously as though it was a map to ancient ruins. I skim over her prominent collarbone, baggy long-sleeve shirt, all the way down to the knife she holds in her hand. The metal catches the light and glints dangerously, as if it was beckoning me to use it. I comply to its wishes, pulling the knife to my throat, and she copies my movement.

She slashes the kitchen utensil across it with all of her strength, once again mirroring me.

" One cut, two cut, three cut, four,
her body falls to the floor,
five cut, six cut, seven cut, eight,
who knew she'd receive so much hate?
nine cut, ten cut, eleven cut, twelve,
darkness has come, she's gone to hell "

- anonymous