Mirror Mirror

The room was small, perhaps eight feet square, large enough to fit a bed, a wash basin with mirror, and a small window. He entered quietly, closing the door behind him and walking to the bed to place his bag neatly at the foot of the small, four poster bed frame. Standing, scanning the room, he spotted the window and walked to it drawing the curtains back ever so slightly and peering out on the street below. The man stood for a bit, watching the hustle and bustle of mid afternoon commerce flow up and down the street. After a few minutes, the man stepped back from the window, allowing the curtain to drop back across the window and approached the mirror. He was a slight man, not sickly thin, but not muscular or toned in any particular way. His straight brown hair fell neatly about his face, framing his ordinary looking face well, and a neatly trimmed mustache hung above his thin lips.

The man's eyes looked tired, stressed, and the dark bags under them told of recent sleepless nights. The man smoothed his mustache and turned away, sitting on the bed lightly, testing the mattress’s softness. After a moment, the mattress gained the man's slight approval, and he again stood, satisfied with his lodgings, and exited the room as softly as he had come, locking the door behind him.

As night fell the man stumbled up the stairs, his quiet demeanor earlier in the day had faded away, clouded by alcohol from the bar across the street. The man stumbled to a door, pushed the key into the lock forcefully and tried to turn the key, but with no success. A flash of anger creased his mind and he raised his boot and gave the door a solid kick and cursed quite loudly at it, as though in the man's mind this would open the door better than the key. The door suddenly flew open, and an older gentleman with thinning gray hair and a portly, angry face, stepped into the door way. Before words could be spoken, the man drunkenly stumbled away with the door slamming behind him, and the older gentleman cursing from behind the closed and locked door. The man found his room, and this time stumbled in with success. He fell to his bed and after a moment, staggered up and moved to the mirror.

The man studied his face again, flushed with drunkenness. His skin was drawn, his eyes sunken and darker than earlier, and bloodshot a bright red. The man stared, and in the soft, flickering light of the lantern that hung in the room, remarked to himself how much his face resembled a skull, then moved closer to the mirror, looking his reflection in the eye. The man stared for a moment, then mouthed her name, eyes welling with tears as he did so. The man's face dropped and his chin buried itself into his chest as large, angry tears streamed down his face and silent sobs wracked his body. He looked back up, and saw his reflection still staring at him, thin lips curved into a frown, eyes hard and unfeeling piercing into him.

The man stared at his reflection, sobs still shaking him, and through the sobs and tears asked "What do you want"? The man's reflection stared hard, unmoved, silent. The man backed up, throwing his arms out in disgust and frustration. "What do you want"?! he said, this time louder. The reflection again responded with it's piercing glare and silence. The man wiped his face, anger replacing his previous grief, and approached the mirror with a closed fist, intent now on destroying the reflection that tormented him so. As he neared, the gaze from the his reflection locked eyes with the man, and the man's reflection mouthed a single, slow word: "Murderer". The man stopped, almost as if he had hit an invisible barrier, his hand dropped and released the fist it held and landed at his side. The man's legs gave way and he dropped to his knees, eyes still locked with his reflection.

Again wracked by sobs, this time angry, the man pointed to the mirror and began to choke out words, spitting them out like venom between sobs. "She made me. She forced me. She....She.....I had no choice"! His voice raising with each word until he was yelling and shaking with rage and grief. His reflection was unmoved by the display, still frowning, gazing, judging. The man stood again, enraged, and opening his mouth to let loose a tearful, rage filled attack on his reflection, he stopped short as a knock at the door sounded. The mans rage turned to panic as he wondered who it was, and more importantly what they had heard. He dried his eyes as he glanced at the door, chancing a glance back to the mirror and realizing his specter was gone and his reflection once again belonged to himself.

Composing himself as much as a drunk man can, he moved to the door and opened it quickly. He hadn't intended to open the door that quickly, but between the alcohol and his tormentor, he was not currently in as much control as he would like to think. At the door stood a woman, holding several towels and smiling with perfect teeth at him. She stood as tall as him on her high heels. Her hair, a dark auburn, was done in curls bunched up in a loose bun behind her head, some of the curls escaping to drape around her shoulders. Her eyes were large and brown, filled with a false innocence and allure. As he studied her, she walked slightly in, begging his pardon and asking for permission to enter as she proceeded to enter the room regardless, as if to say that she didn't actually want or care about his permission.

The man stood, watching as she made her way to the wash basin and mirror and placed the towels gingerly under the basin. She bent at the waist showing her ample behind through her loose black dress as she did. The man could not help himself, and looked on, half in shock of having a woman so forcefully enter his room, and half in admiration of her exceptional beauty. She stood again without him noticing, cocking her head to the side and smiling at him. The man realized he was still staring, and turned away, flushing even more red in the face than before. She approached him, placing her hand softly on his face. The man's mind reeled, this woman, was so much like his beloved, so kind, so beautiful, dare he look into those eyes? Dare he embrace her back?

Her hand fell from his face and feeling the warmth leave his cheek he turned and caught her gaze, full of that false innocence and lust, he felt her lift his hand and slide it to her bosom. His eyes flicked down to her ample chest, and back to her gaze as he felt her move his hand slowly into her dress. He could no longer take it. He embraced her, kissing her and pulling her close to him as he moved her towards his bed. The man felt her return his kiss, felt her move her hand down, and with a thrill, he felt his body fall with hers onto the bed. The man released from her kiss, and before he knew what he was saying, said "Emily". The girl smiled with those perfect teeth, and her eyes twinkled and said "Oh honey, my name's Jasmine, but for twenty dollars it can be Emily".

The man stiffened, staring blankly into Jasmine's eyes, his hands moved up her body. Jasmine smiled, but the sparkle and innocence were gone from her eyes. "Honey, money first, then you can touch however you may well please" she said, her tone moving to one experienced with dealing with forceful men. The mans hands slid still, slowly up, and Jasmines smile turned to a frown as he reached her neck with both hands, and gripped firmly. "Now that kind of thing will cost..." Jasmine's voice cut off as the mans hands tightened around her neck, choking off her breath. The look in her eyes turned to panic as the man tightened his grip more and began shaking her violently, screaming "You are not my beloved! You are not Emily! You whore! You tricked me! You tricked me into being unfaithful"!

Jasmine's panic increased, tears began streaming down her face as he shook and choked her violently. Jasmine tried to take a breath, gasp, and when she couldn't her panic increased. Spots were appearing in her vision, and black edges began to fade around his rage filled face. The man screamed and spat, shaking her more and more. Jasmine tried to gather her strength and fight back some how, but her arms would not respond, her legs were dead, and soon her world was black and cold. The man sat, squatted over her limp figure, and eyes widening with realization, released her neck quickly and jumped back from the bed, he looked about the small room frantically, and then saw the mirror. The man's reflection stood, frowning deeply, thin lips pursed, brow furrowed and pointing at the man.

The reflection screamed out silently, "murderer". The man shook his head, mouth agape, he backed away slowly from the mirror. The reflection dropped his hand, face still filled with rage, and seemed to reach into the nothingness to his left, pulling out a beautiful young girl with long, curled, dark auburn hair, wide, large brown eyes and full lips. Her face wore a sad, accusatory look upon it, and as the man saw her, he slowly stepped forward, hand reaching out slowly to the mirror. The man's reflection watched coldly as the man approached, until the mans hand was touching the glass of the mirror. Just as his fingers touched the figure of the girl, the man whispered "Emily" and tears flowed down his face again. The girl, Emily, with a sadness so deep, looked at the man and mouthed "Why"?

The man recoiled his hand, stepping back a half step as if he had been shocked by electricity with the question. "You...You made me" he stammered softly. "You dishonored me! Shamed me! You chose him! You chose another when you knew......You KNEW I was the right man"! The mans quiet response had grown into a frantic yell. Emily's figure stood next to the mans reflection, her sadness deepening at his excuses. The man pointed a finger, screaming "I had to do it! You are mine! No other man is worthy of you!" the man ranted. Suddenly the man's reflection, gaze still cold and piercing, slid behind Emily, and in a fluid movement, produced a large knife and pulling her head back, drew it across her exposed throat, cutting deeply and swiftly.

Emily's eyes widened with terror and pain, and as blood poured down her neck and chest she fell, slumped into a heap at the feet of the man's reflection, out of view. The man's reflection pointed to where Emily had fallen, then reached down, moving smoothly and quickly with his knife, and pulled up the disembodied head of Emily, her eyes sad, hurt, and glazed with death. The man felt vomit rise in his throat as he stared at his beloved's head, swinging gently in his reflections angry grip. The man could no longer bear it, he raced forward and hand stretched out and balled into a fist, aimed for his reflection, bent on his reflection’s destruction. As the man's hand neared the glass of the mirror, the headless body of Emily lurched up from below where it had fallen, and gripped the mans wrist.

Emily's cold, dead fingers dug into his wrist, and the man's momentum was too much to reverse. The man's reflection stood laughing, as the man's hand entered the mirror, causing ripples like a stone into water rather than a shatter of glass. The cold dead fingers of Emily dug further into the man's skin, pushing until the skin broke, digging into muscle and tendons, ripping them apart and finally finding the arteries in the mans wrist. Emily's fingers twisted around the man's arteries, and pulled hard.

Jasmine awoke to a horrid screaming. Her head was pounding, her throat was sore and bruised and she struggled to catch her breath. Jasmine’s vision was still spotty and wavering, but as she regained her bearings in the room, she saw the man that had assaulted her sitting in a slumped pile on the floor. She stood, unsteady at first, but able to move slowly around. Curious as to what the man was doing, she moved around towards the door, but peering around the man to catch a glimpse of his activities. As the angle bettered, she saw him tearing at his own wrist, blood pouring onto the floor in rhythmic spurts and pieces of flesh, muscle, and tendon spread around the man in the pool of rapidly growing blood. Jasmine gasped, covering her mouth and looked away.

As Jasmine averted her gaze, she caught a glimpse of the mirror, and for just a moment, there stood a girl who did not look all that dissimilar from herself, smiling brightly and watching the man slowly fall into the pool of his own blood. As the man fell, the girl faded slowly, smile as bright as ever.