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--
This is a horror about being lonely and wanting to die.
It may be triggering.
Proceed with this in mind.
[[Happy Halloween. ->It is 4am.]]
The mirror is a confusing mistress. You hate it there, but get stuck inside frequently. You click-clack your long nails across the glass slowly, before resting them against the reflection of your own stupid face. Doughy, uneven thing. Sad eyes and sad mouth that droop and sag and cause you problems. Your nails make a slicing motion across the smeared reflection. You wish you could cut the whole mess off.
Something cracks inside your throat. You feel your voice, unused for days, creep out into the bathroom. Your whisper could belong to anyone,
"[[Bloody Mary]]," it says.You watch the lips of your reflection move ever so slightly out of sync. Sometimes your eyes take a while to catch up with reality. The dragging vertigo of medication. Your fingertips press into the glass, pushing your nails back. It hurts. You dont stop. The reflection winces.
[after 3 seconds]
"[[Bloody Mary,]]" another whisper falls from chewed lipsAs the words slip out, so does your hand push harder into the glass. The eyes of the reflection narrow. You feel the bright light of pain run through your fingers and glance at your hand - the nails are pushing against the glass, bending at an unpleasent angle. Blood starts to ooze from around the quick as one by one each fingernail peels away from your hand with a sickening pop and lands in the sink. You cannot pull your hand back. You feel panic grasp around your ribcage and squeeze tight. You are forgetting how to breathe. Blood trickles down your knuckles in five tiny rivers which you cannot stop staring at - even as the fingers in the reflection that you are pushing up against *flex* and in a swift-gut churning movement you feel the cold, smooth hand grab and entwine itself with yours.
Now you scream. Or you mean to, but when you open your mouth something else rushes out
"[[Bloody Mary!!]]"You have been watching yourself exist all day, from the small space just behind reality where the wrong end of the telescope sits. Hours became static. The sky changed from puddle grey to heartbreak black. You saw all this as a timelapse. You blinked and the clock on your phone rolled past midnight, officially making it Halloween. It took you 4 more hours to be able to pull yourself from that Other Space beyond your skull back into your limbs. Your body is not your home. It barely even feels like yours.
You go to the bathroom. You rub a handful of makeup remover gently into your face. Yours are the only fingertips which have touched your face for almost a year. You try to savour it.
You rinse away the dirt of the day. Eyebrows and mascara. Bare-faced and dripping you look up into the mirror.
Do you like what you see?
[[No]]The mouth of the reflection opens too, in a silent scream, but as your finishes hers does not. The mouth opens wider, and wider. The jaw unhinges itself apart displaying the inside of a void-like throat, slick and slippery and endless. You whimper. There is a moment of horrible tension that seems to last forever as you feel yourself attempting to run back to the Other Place, where you can simply watch whatever this is happen, but the pain in your hand keeps you anchored. You are frozen in reality as she snarls those unholy jaws closed and bites down, the horrible shattering crack of teeth on breaking glass grinds through your head along with the sickening realisation - [[she is coming out]]You watch as the thing that was once your reflection pulls herself free from the gaping shattered hole. She spits bloody chunks of glass into the sink, where they clatter next to your fingernails. Her skin catches on the edges of the break and pulls itself away in long flesh ribbons. You watch your reflection flay herself as she steps free. Your face, attached like a mask to the creature of raw meat in front of you, splits into a pumpkin grin.
"Hello, you," she says in a voice like scattered needles.
"Hello, me" you reply in your softest tremble.
She still has you by the hand. She pushes you against the wall with a horrible firm strength. The hand she has in her vice grip shoved above your head, the other jammed into the wall with her knee. She presses the entirity of her wet, wounded weight against you. You are pinned in place. She is somehow still so incredibly cold. She nuzzles her face, *your face*, into your neck.
"I need your skin," she whispers.
In abject terror,
how do you plead?
[[You shake your head, innocent]]
[[You nod your head, guilty]]The mirror-you growls, hot and mean next to your ear. You close your eyes.
"I don't want you to kill me," you manage to say in a choked, ugly little voice. The other you laughs.
"Liar," she says, "I can smell the gnawing loneliness pouring off you. I can taste your tragedy in the air. You're pathetic."
The words run through you like fingers through hair. You feel gooseflesh prickle and tingle its way all along the back of your neck. The mirror-you steps back, releasing your hands, and you flutter your eyes open once again. She is you, yes, but better. She is taller. Her eyes are brighter. Her hair is untouched by the blood that drips down the rest of her body and it shines. She holds out a long arm toward you and you look down, at her raw skinnless hand, at the large shard of glass she is holding towards you.
Hands trembling, you take it.
With each long strip of skin you peel off and hand to her, you feel lighter, and she grows more and more perfect. As your conciousness slowly pours out of your body you are aware that the other you is smiling.
"Good girl," she whispers, a soft hand tracing itself down your tearstained cheek, and satisfaction shimmers through you like one last kiss goodbye.
~~CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE DIED~~
A part of you always knew you would summon your own destruction. You gulp air for the first time in a while. She is almost purring against you, dripping softly, her free hand tracing itself wetly along your jawline. It feels... good.
She laughs, a cold spray of black blood misting across you as she does so. You are both covered in so much blood. You turn to look at her properly. That face. How could you have ever thought it was yours? It is terrible and beautiful and built from sharp angles. She gazes back. Eyes shark-black. The air crystalises in the millimetres between you and the demon of flesh and broken glass. Slowly, achingly slowly, she presses more of herself against you. Lips that taste of copper and rot, and then tongue which slithers too far into the back of your throat. You moan.
The tongue slides deeper. Your heartbeat feels like ice and electricity. You hear her voice inside your bones. "I know what you need," it vibrates through you as your throat now too opens up into an abyss, the agonising pain keeping you secure in reality, and she crawls her way inside.
~~CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE DIED~~