Mirror Mirror

A Story by writerofshadows

He stared into the glassy reflection of himself. Can’t really call it a reflection. It is so distorted by no it doesn’t even resemble the face he once called his own. Twisted a pain only imaginable through utter self loathing. His palm slammed into the mirror and he left it there as he stared into the sink, thinking, loathing. His fist balled against the glass and he pulled back and slammed his knuckles into the glass. Little shoots spread from his knuckles. He hit the mirror again and again. Spider webs of cracks speckled red from splitting knuckles. He gave one final punch that shattered the mirror entirely, his face still towards the sink, dripping drops of sadness down the drain to be lost and forgotten by all but his lonely self.

He had to get away. Out of this house. Out of this city. Out of this place people call reality. He needed something that this world could not give him. He must find another. He picked up the largest shard that had fallen into the sink to join his tears. He was determined to cut his way into a place he could call home. Nothing like this artificial place where everything seemed plastic and out of place. Plastic clothes, plastic smiles, plastic breasts. Everything was fake. Everyone was fake. Determined to change themselves to fit other peoples perspectives. Why couldn’t he. What was so wrong with him that he just couldn’t find a way. He would make a way. With all his strength he drew back the shard that had once been him.

He slammed the shard as deep as he could into the wall where the mirror once covered. Again he drove the shard deep into the wall. He began to claw madly and the wall. A desperate madness, kind of like when an animal is cornered into a back wall and knows it is fight to prolong its inevitable end. He continued to hack away at the wall, ignoring the blood dripping down his arm. Ignoring the glass cutting into his hand. It was all insignificant compared to the goal. He was finally going to escape.

The cuts were beginning to connect to each other to form a hole, increasing in depth and radius with each desperate stab. Every cut brought him closer to what he truly desired. His pain was nothing compared to his need.

He could feel his strength waning under the stress. He had to finish now. He wouldn’t get another chance. Those who thought they cared for him wouldn’t let him try again. He used his free hand to support himself as he continued to carve his way to freedom. It was not just physical stress that was sapping his energy. It was the whole world pressing down on his mind. Trying to make him forget about it. Trying to make him quit. He wouldn’t quit, he would finish this. He hacked and hacked as hard as he could, slowly slipping down the sink. Finally with one last thrust with all his remaining energy behind it he thrust into the wall. The shard bit through the wall and punctured out the other side. He had done. As he fell to the floor he looked into the hole to….

To nothing. It was just darkness. There was nothing there. No home for him. No sanctuary. As he fell he came to realize. There was no home for him. He was stuck in this false reality. Those who thought they loved him would be back soon. To see his failed attempt. They would not let him try again, not that he cared to anyways. He knew he was doomed to despair in a dark world the dragged him to his own personal hell. There he would rot for eternity.