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Mirror's Image

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Broken mirror chaos deities death
It's hard being me. Every night, I go out into the world and see perfect faces, perfect hair, and perfect smiles. They all brush past me, giggling as they stumble home drunkenly from the bar they had remained in for hours. Their happiness left a bad taste in my mouth. Their joyous smiles caused anger to swell within me at threatening levels. I hated them. I envied how they could glance into a mirror confidently, even if they were far from perfection.

Opposed to my views on myself, my friends and family are quite happy with their appearances. In fact, they all mock my insecurities every chance they get, causing me to withdraw from their hurtful commentary whenever they decide to pick on me. It's not like I chose to be a fuck up. Who would choose such a trait? All I ever wanted was to be proud of the way I looked, but that far fetched dream was unlikely to ever become my reality. Let's face it, I'm hideous.

No one seems to understand me... except Morgan. She's my roomie. Just as I do before I retreat to bed every night, Morgan stands before the mirror, blank faced, as she stares upon herself. Tears stream down her cheeks as she analyzes herself, trying to find one thing she likes about the image staring back at her within the mirror's reflection. Every single night, her progress remained stunted in the path towards self confidence. I almost felt sorry for her, but that pity always vanished as I stared upon her luscious, brown hair, intoxicating, green eyes, and gorgeous bone structure. The girl had no right to be self conscious. If anything, she belonged on a runway, making millions before she eventually married some basketball player abroad. Unlike her, I was truly hideous, but I couldn't stand the thought of losing her as my friend.

My fascination with Morgan grew daily. I hated her, loved her, envied her, admired her; I just couldn't get enough of her. My friends warned me not to grow attached to her, reminding me of past friendships gone awry, but every word they spoke travelled in one ear and out of the other. No matter what they said, I couldn't part from Morgan.

No, she was my addiction.

I had to be within her presence daily. No matter the cost.

Unfortunately, Morgan never felt the slightest bit for me. She pretended I didn't exist, throwing her filthy clothes wherever she pleased in attempt to piss me off. Nothing I ever did seemed to please her. Even after a long day of cleaning our room, she would come home, strip out of her clothes, and dirty the room without so much of a 'thank you.' Her cold shoulder lasted weeks at a time, causing fury to eat away at my conscience with every word left unspoken.

Before now, she acknowledged me. She would glance under her bed countless times in the dead of night after hearing my leg bump against the railing beneath her. Her eyes would search blindly for any sign of life hiding within the darkness, but the absence of light aided in concealing me from view. Various nights she would glance towards her cracked open closet door, her eyes unable to catch mine as I watched on, peeking through her hanging clothes.

She knew I was there.

She used to acknowledge me.

Now, she doesn't seem to care. All of her attention was captured by her own image within the mirror. Those self-help books, the ones she so valiantly read each and every night, were the cause of this. No longer did she want to share the only common trait she had with me. She wanted it gone; she wanted it erased from her thoughts.

I couldn't allow this to happen. I refused to allow her to be happy. Her smiles would surely kill me, dragging me back into the dark abyss of my own mind upon view. She was a traitor for seeking help. She did this on purpose. For years I've been around, cherishing our relationship, as she's plotted against me... against us. She wanted to rub her smiles, her happiness, her perfection within my face. I could sense she wanted to break me, just as Bethany, Julia, and Rebecca had in the past. I couldn't let history repeat itself. No, I couldn't.

So I waited for her to arrive home, anticipation causing a foul odor to seep from under my arms as I did so. The wait was long, considering I was standing the entire time. Once she walked into the door, a faint smile across her face as she lowered her backpack to the floor, I stepped up to her, my heart beginning to beat with excitement, rage, and vengeance. Immediately she let out a blood curdling scream, but I quickly muted her, placing my hand over her perfect mouth as she struggled within my arms.

Once her fight subsided, I removed my hand from her mouth, only to secure it beneath her chin. As the rehearsed pleading began, adrenaline surged through me. To have someone so perfect acknowledge you, offering any and everything in exchange for mercy, was quite satisfying. I knew it was a ploy, a trick used by Bethany, Julia, and Rebecca to escape me in the past. I knew I couldn't let her leave. If I let her go, she'd flee, never to return again...

Instead of resorting to my once foolish ways, I lowered myself down to her, staring within her eyes as black mascara stained her cheeks.

"I want to be perfect," I said, speaking the language my family and friends had all been told not to from birth.

Her eyes widened, a shrill scream escaping her perfect lips as she realized her fate. Something about her helplessness as I pulled her beautiful eyes from her sockets, slicing away the optic nerve as I did so, provided me with... happiness. Though her fight had worn out, shock drowning her, she was still so perfect... even without her eyes... even without her luscious hair... even without her teeth...

Once her body went limp, the blood pooling around her body no longer expanding outward upon the wooden floors, I walked excitedly towards the mirror, Morgan's scalp, teeth, and eyes within my hands. As I stood before it, I gazed upon the gnarled creature within its reflection.

I stared at my sickly, veiny skin; I glared at the sight of my disproportioned arms and legs; I scowled upon the sight of the grotesque tumor-like protrusion resting atop my spinal cord.

No matter what I did, I would never be happy. I couldn't possibly be satisfied with the disgusting monstrosity I was born to be. No, I had to change. I had to conform to perfection... So I lifted Morgans scalp over my lumpy head, shifting it so that it framed my face perfectly. I glanced into the mirror, relishing in the minor transformation as blood trickled down my cheeks.

The process was not over. I had to continue.

So I began tugging away at my jagged teeth, one by one, ripping them away from my rot infested mouth. The pain was nonexistent, though the opaque liquid running down the sides of my mouth was surely blood. Still, I continued on, shoving the perfect, white teeth in the deepened holes my blackened ones had previously been.

Once each tooth was in their rightful place, swiftly, I turned towards the mirror, smiling at the beauty within its reflection.

But, there was one more step to make. The one that would complete my transformation.

I'm not gonna lie to you, the pain was excruciating. Who would've thought ripping your own eyes out would be so painful? I powered through it though, listening as my own eyes fell to the floor. Slowly, and with very careful movements, I inserted Morgan's eyes inside of the sockets, cringing as warm fluid seeped from the deepened pockets.

Though I could not see my transformation, I could feel it. I was perfect, absolutely perfect, and the best part about it is, I don't ever have to look in a mirror again.

Mirror's Image by GreyOwl10:20

Mirror's Image by GreyOwl

Written by GreyOwl
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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