Mirror Image

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised me, since I purchased it at a yard sale. When the previous owner bragged about the mirror’s ability to show me the best version of myself. I thought she meant that it was a slimming mirror.

I bought the mirror because it reminded me of an antique mirror my parents had owned when I was a child. Maybe it was their mirror, since I couldn’t remember what had happened to it after my mother passed. Glancing at the mirror, I could almost see my mother’s face reflected back at me. She’d been beautiful once before my father started a series of affairs, but his cheating changed her. She spent her last days staring into the mirror in an almost catatonic state.

I had always been in love with the mirror, which is why I was drawn to this one. It reminded me of my mother telling me how pretty I was when she held me up to see my reflection. Her voice was syrupy sweet, and angelic even, and I could almost hear it beckoning me over to the mirror.

I told myself that I was only buying the mirror to further my social media career. I wanted to fix the chipped paint and imperfections on camera. That notion fizzled out as I peered into the mirror and saw someone who wasn’t me.

Anyone else would have been fooled by her because she was my mirror image, but slimmer. There was something different about her, though, and for the first couple of days, I couldn’t figure out what it was. That’s when I realized she was happy, while I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been happy. Maybe I’d never been happy, but that might have been why I kept checking on her. She was the better version of me, the person I could have been if I’d gotten my life together.

It started out innocently enough, with a glance here and there as I walked past the mirror. I remember looking at ‘myself’ and wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Sometimes I averted my eyes because I didn’t want to think I might be losing my mind. I didn’t always look away. Sometimes, after a long day at work, I would peer into the mirror. It was as if I was daring the woman inside to do something different from what I was doing. I thought having a haunted mirror could secure my financial future, since people would pay to see it.

My obsession with the woman in the mirror started when I noticed the ring on her left ring finger. My own finger was bare. It was the first major difference I’d seen. The ring should have frightened me, but it fascinated me instead. It wasn’t long after discovering the ring that I saw her husband for the first time. Her husband was my ex-boyfriend, the one most people would claim was the one who got away.

The more I watched, the more I saw that they had the perfect marriage. He brought her flowers and jewelry. He even helped with the housework, something he hadn’t done when we were together. I felt a pang of jealousy as I watched him kiss her cheek and wrap his arms around her, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

I can still remember how tears burned my eyes when her daughter rushed into the room and handed her mother a doll. I watched as the perfect version of me fixed the doll before kissing her daughter on the forehead. I could see the love on her face anytime she saw her daughter, and it made me long for her life.

Soon I became hooked on watching her life as if it were my own personal soap opera, and I guess in some way it was. It was the life I would never be able to live, but I wasn’t sure why. What had she done differently? Why was she able to live this beautiful life while I sat alone in my studio apartment?

She had a husband, daughter, and friends, and I had nothing but an elderly cat and a dead-end job. I began to see her as beautiful and see myself as a hideous monster. I ignored the shrill ringing of my phone as I continued to watch her. I even ignored it when someone knocked on my door. The only thing that mattered to me was the mirror and the life I should have led.

One night, I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the mirror. Not the happy me, the real me. I’d always been a bit chubby before, but now I’d lost enough weight to expose the bones in my face. My skin was grey, and my eyes had sunk in. My unwashed hair was stringy hair hung limply around my face. My nostrils filled with a scent that made my stomach turn. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, but I felt too weak to move. I couldn’t do anything besides stare into the mirror, unable to look away from the life I thought I wanted.

My stomach turned as the woman peered into the mirror. She wore red lipstick and was touching up her eye makeup. I noticed that her wedding ring was missing, but I thought she must have taken it off to make sure it didn’t get damaged.

That’s when her husband entered the room, holding a fire extinguisher. He brought it down on her head before she had time to react. He continued brutally bringing the fire extinguisher down on her head. He hit her even after she’d fallen to the ground and disappeared from the mirror’s view.

When he turned to face me, I noticed that his handsome face was covered in blood splatter. For the first time since I’d gotten the mirror, I felt like he could see me looking at him. He winked at me before disappearing. He looked deranged, and I was afraid he’d hurt me next. I turned away from the mirror, but he appeared before me.

He was clutching the fire extinguisher so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. I was too weak to do anything but watch as he lifted the fire extinguisher above his head. He smiled as he brought it down on my head until the room darkened around me.