In the Mirror

I stared into the mirror. Any second now. My reflection looked back at me, innocent and unassuming. I dimmed the lights, and looked into my own eyes, my brown eyes, my empty eyes. At any moment they would fill, fill with a deep evil stare. I was terrified of the thing that would consume my reflection, the demonic face so similar to mine. But I was empty, and I wanted to see myself full. 

“Alright, fucker, where are you?” I ask. I tap the glass a little, hoping supernatural beasts worked the same way as goldfish. 

I sighed, and sat on my bathroom counter, staring at my face. I hated my face. I picked at skin tags and imperfections, and scratched at invisible moles. I ignored the blood under my fingernails as I tried to remove the parts of myself I could not love. I wished that they would come. I wanted to hate something inside my face that wasn’t me. I scratched, and rubbed, and pinched until my face was a red, bloody, puffy mess. A red, puffy, bloody mess that I liked far better than the original model. 

And suddenly, my eyes opened. The mud brown turned  to rick black, my chapped lips grew full, and stretched into a smile. I mirrored the smile, and waved. 

“Welcome back” I said, my voice dry and baiting. 

My reflection seemed to chuckle incredulously, and then flipped me off. 

I sat there, sticking my tongue out at myself for hours. The creature was menacing, her very aura was filled with evil and darkness. And they danced like an idiot in the middle of my messy bathroom, right above my pink mechanical toothbrush. 

Her claws were sharp, but just as yellow and sparkly as my own acrylic nails. Her hair was wild and luscious, but my same dirty blonde. I watched myself and I watched me, looking at each other with hatred and smiles. 

“FUCK YOU!” I yelled

My reflection gave a raspy grown in response. 

I flipped my hair and left the bathroom, being careful to haughtily swish my hips as I left, lest my devil in the mirror think they won. 

The next day, I walked into the bathroom, with an air of victoriousness. she were already waiting, inhabiting me as soon as I came into view. I smiled viciously, and they gave a look of surprise in response. Right across from the mirror I nailed a painting to the wall. The ugliest goddamn painting I could find on the internet. It was something medieval, depicting a straight faced woman holding the buffest baby I’d ever seen. I think It might have been religious. I hoped they would be offended. 

I looked at myself in the mirror and crossed my arms, raising my eyebrows, waiting for retaliation. 

“Enjoy the view?” I asked. 

My reflection looked extremely offronted. My onix eyes darted from the painting and back again. 

I shrugged and  left the room triumphantly.

When I returned to the bathroom the next day, I was anything but triumphant. I had had a horrible day at work, my hair was unwashed and greasy, and I had slept far too late. I slammed the door and sat on my counter, staring at my empty face. I was staring at the face who couldn’t get up on time, who couldn’t turn in neat reports, who was too lazy to use shampoo. The more I started the more I was sure that if I could just fix my face, I could fix myself. 

Immediately, I got to work. I picked and pinched at every inch of my skin, I ripped out every out of place hair. When my eyes filled with blackness and my friend arrived, I ignored them. Instead of our usual antagonizing and banter I scratched my reflection. she made protesting growls and screams, but I refused to heed them.  I watched as my red blood turned black in the mirror. I watched as my reflection looked horrified and begged me to stop. 

But I didn’t listen. When I went to bed that night, my pillow was soaked with tears and blood. 

I avoided the bathroom the next morning. My bladder was about to burst but I held it until I got to my office. I didn’t want to see her look at me with pity. I did not want to see hermorph my strong eyes into pathetic, sad mourning ones. 

Eventually though, I could no longer escape the toilet. I screwed my courage to the sticking place and marched into the lavatory, my feet were cooled by the linoleum tiles. I closed my eyes as I crossed my mirror. I didn’t want to see the tiny cuts on my face. I certainly didn’t want to see them on her. 

But eventually I could not resist the lamenting, garbled coos coming from the walls. I looked in the mirror, at first squinting and flinching away, and then risking a direct glance. she was sad, I was sure of that. Thick, black goo oozed from her eyes. The demon’s eyes were pleading, as if they desperately wanted to walk into my world. I walked away. 

But I was followed. 

My reflection walked beside me, her face in every vase, window, and my blank TV. I was pissed. It was bad enough to be haunted, I did not need this asshole to judge me about the way I live my life. I ran into my room and slammed the door. I flopped onto my bed and screamed into my pillow. 

I thought I was alone when I heard the raspy coos of my tormenter. 

“Damn you!!” I screamed. I whipped my head around the room, searching for a reflective surface. 

But there was none. I continued my search until slowly, tentatively, the creature stepped out from the shadows of my closet. she stared into my eyes, and spread a wide, sharp, toothy smile. II watched myself walk closer to me. she looks just like I do, but darker. she reached out a thin hand, and cupped my cheek. I felt her razor sharp fingernails graze my face. 

After a moment of considering the bizarredom of my situation, I burst out in laughter. she immediately recoiled, giving me a confused look and a garbled exclamation. I continued to giggle, and grabbed her hand. Her eyes widened, and they leaned her face toward me. I watched until she was an inch from my lips, and I gave one final push. Her lips were on mine, and I could feel myself filling. I felt myself full, as if I had been reconnected with a part of myself that had been lost long ago. I was no longer empty. 

The next day I stared into the mirror and smiled. I loved every inch of my face, every feature darker and more defined than they ever had been.