Flaws

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. Except in a way, it was. It was me, except...except...well, it was me. All of my flaws so obvious. My hair stuck up in all the wrong places and I had to run a hand through my own to make sure it wasn't doing the same thing. The annoying spot that sat in the most awkward place on my left nostril and just wouldn't go away, had magnified in the mirror's version of me. Instead of a small irritation, it seemed to draw most of the attention. My teeth were horribly crooked and I couldn't help running my tongue over my own teeth to see if they felt as bad as they looked in my reflection.

Part of me was sure that the mirror was a lie. A twisted, horrible lie, but I could not look away. I gazed at my every imperfection, hating myself and the mirror more and more.

I waved at myself and when my hand moved, so did the reflection's, but it was half a second behind, just slightly out of sync. What strange magic this mirror possessed and how it had come to be standing in my hallway was beyond me.

It had been standing there, innocent as you like, right where my old mirror had been when I woke up that morning. At first, I hadn't noticed anything wrong with it, but after I'd finished breakfast there had been a strong urge to check my reflection. I didn't normally consider myself a vain person, and my original mirror had been a moving in gift from my mother, but for some reason I simply had to check. That's when I noticed the differences. Except, were they really differences? Had I just been kidding myself before? I had no other mirrors in the house to check and the glimpse I had gotten of myself in the window glass had appeared even more distorted.

As I stood before the mirror, I wondered if one of my friends had slipped a joke mirror in my house as a prank. I wouldn't put it past them. I'd never known a funhouse mirror to be so accurate, yet so wrong. Normally they just made you look horribly fat or thin or some other obvious distortion, but maybe they'd found something different. Something new.

The longer I looked, the harder it was to look away. I knew I should be getting ready for the day ahead. I had a lot of work to do, not to mention the house needed a good clean. Living on my own was a relief. I loved my parents, I truly did, but I needed my own space. Moving into this place last week had been the most freeing feeling in the world. thankfully, I'd saved up enough that I could buy my own place instead of renting, or having to have a roommate. I was antisocial at the best of times. Still, despite being a loner, I was a closet romantic. All my friends assumed I was simply a sarcastic, people-hating asshole, and they weren't wrong, but deep down, in a place I kept hidden even from myself half the time, I longed for someone to love me. Truly love me. Flaws and all.

The same flaws I could see in the mirror. Gods, how had I gotten so fat? I really needed to go on a diet. My dreams of meeting a guy who wanted more than just sex were evaporating before my eyes. Soon, not even those guys would want me. Not that I wanted them to want me. Or did I? At this point, I would probably accept any kind of positive attention, whether it was healthy or not.

The longer I stared at my reflection, the more I wanted to scoff at my own naivety. Nobody would love me. Just look at me! I'm hideous. I felt sick. Some part of my mind tried to reassure me that looks weren't everything. Maybe I would never be a model, or on the cover of magazines, but I had a good personality. Didn't I? Staring at my reflection, I saw a smirk on my own face. It looked more like a disdainful sneer, but then, who wouldn't be disdainful upon seeing me? I was nothing. Ugly. Fat. Of course the mirror wasn't magical or some other fanciful notion. It was just a mirror. A plain old mirror, showing me the truth of myself. All the things I'd never wanted to accept before.

Sagging under the weight of the truth, I felt a burning in my eyes. I wanted to cry. I'd been deluding myself. Nobody would ever want me. My friends probably only put up with me so they had someone to laugh at when I wasn't there. I had nothing to offer, whereas they were all so smart, beautiful, brilliant. Everything I wasn't. How could I have thought I'd fit in with them? Stupidity, obviously. Desperation.

I'd be better off dead. It's not like anyone would miss me. Could I do it? It had crossed my mind before, but I'd never been brave enough. Death was so final. But, looking at my reflection, I honestly wondered how I could have thought living would be better. I had even thought about how I'd do it. Pills. I'd stockpiled enough that I could be damn sure I wouldn't survive. But what if I backed out, I could make myself throw up. Would that fix anything? Maybe I should do something more permanent.

As I gazed at my reflection, I could have sworn I saw myself nodding. But I hadn't nodded. Had I? I was going crazy. Nevermind. That didn't matter now. Was I truly going to do this? The last time I'd thought about killing myself, I'd stopped. Not because I wanted to live, but because my best friend had rung me at the just the right (wrong?) time and I'd gone to see him instead.

Reaching into my pocket, I took out my phone and turned it off. No disturbances this time. Was I really going to do this? I looked at my reflection and felt another wave of grief. Why not? Just look at me! I was hideous! Ugly! fat! Useless! I felt the wetness of tears on my cheeks. Now I was weak to. This had to be done. The world would be a better place with me not in it. Maybe that was being to generous to myself. The world probably wouldn't even change without me in it. I wasn't important. My friends might be a bit sad, maybe, but they'd soon get over it. Nobody needed me.

I moved to the bathroom and found a razor. It would have to do. Returning to the mirror, I stared at my reflection as I drew the blade across my skin. The sharp shock of pain made me wince. As much as I loved the thought of death, pain and murder, I'd always had a low pain threshold myself. I couldn't allow that to stop me.

Blood welled up, bright red against my pale skin. I'd never seen anything so beautiful. But there wasn't enough. A thin trickle of blood began to make it's way down my wrist. I watched as a small amount gathered at the edge of my wrist before falling onto the wooden floor below. I watched, fascinated.

Another cut.

More blood.

Soon, the red was running across my skin like a red river. A slow trickle became a steady stream. I watched, almost like a stranger in my own skin. It was mesmerising.

I began to feel faint. My legs were shaking, trying to support my weight. I sagged against the wall, slowly sliding to the floor. The edges of my vision turned grey. I'd never felt so relaxed.

As I struggled to keep my eyes open, I saw my reflection watching me. Except something was wrong. My mirror self wasn't on the floor, slumped against the wall like I was. It was standing tall, a horrifying smirk on her face. Eyes as cold as the arctic. A chilling laugh echoed in my ears as my vision narrowed even further.

A casual wave of my own hand was the last thing I saw before the world turned black, evil cackling in my ears.