Mirror Malice (#welcometotheblumhouse)

Her Reflection

The girl glared at her reflection, but she never saw what others did. Often called beautiful by most and cute by others. They said she had a smile that could light a room, but it still felt dark. She had a contagious laugh, though she always compared it to a plague.

"Why can't I see it?" She would always ask. "Am I blind, I don't see anything."

She watched as her reflection spun, the tight-fitting dress isn't doing anything special, but why does she wear it all the time? Her reflection walks away and is now staring back at her on a screen.

"Beautiful."

"Stunning."

"Hottie."

"Babe."

Those words along with many others began to pollute the screen. But why? There was nothing special about her – she's just a girl, a copy, but why do people think it's more? Brown hair, green eyes, pale skin, rosy cheeks. She looked normal, but according to most, she's not.

She's better.

She's smarter.

She's adored.

She's perfect.

She begins to get a bad taste in her mouth, why, isn't that a good thing? Isn't it everyone's dream to be loved and adored, why is she taking it like it's a bad thing? She doesn't know. But what she does know is that it isn't fair. Her blood begins to boil as she continues to stare. No, no it isn't fair. Slowly she gets up and makes her way past her reflection grabbing a pair of scissors off the desk in her room.

"I-I can't take this anymore!" She brings the scissors up the reflection and begins stabbing.

Stab.

Stab.

Stab.

Her arms are swinging in all different directions and her emotions are going through it.

She laughed, she cried, she screamed, all while still stabbing her reflection, but soon everything goes dark.

Sounds of machines beeping take her out of her apparent three-day slumber. She goes to stretch but her wrist is stuck on something. She looks around, seeing looks of disgusts, sorrow, anger, confusion, all of it and all she could do was laugh.

Her father's eye goes dark as he grabs her arms and begins shaking her, "why? Why would you do this?!"

She continues to laugh.

Her father's grip becomes tighter, but she doesn't notice. Just sitting there laughing.

He asks again, "why the hell did you do this?!"

"She was favored, she was loved, and now she's dead. We look the same but were yin and yang. She was the light and I the dark. She was the sun; I was the moon, and now we go poof, all because of you."