The Reflection In The Mirror

The Reflection In The Mirror

The Reflection In The Mirror

The glass was smeared, smeared with what seemed to be red-tainted lipstick. Crystal-blue eyes stared through the thin, water-like sheer in front of them. The center of the eyes held an aura of innocence that was recently lost. Long locks of simple, brown hair shrouded around the cheekbones and jaw line. A few freckles poked out from the cream-colored skin, around the delicate and small nose. A pair of full, pink lips were smooth and seemed as if they were shaking.

She knew what he had done.

A slender hand crawled over the vanity table and a couple fingers grasped at a small knife. The blood was still on it, shimmering in the dim light coming from a small bulb at the top of the large mirror. A small smile of satisfaction crawled across her lips as she lifted the blade to them. Her nose picked up the scent of death as she ran the silver edge of the blade across her lips, tasting the iron from the blood. Some of the blood mixed with her saliva as her hand started to shiver.

The spacious room felt cold to her. Her eyes stared blankly into the mirror before her, smiling at the open window from behind. Satin curtains with the color of dark green danced from the wind roaring from the outside. A small painting hung on the flower-coated wall beside the window: a haunted-looking young girl staring into the abyss of reality. What a lucky child, to stay in that painting and never experience loneliness, the young woman thought. The child’s expression seemed as though she was forced to smile. The lack of light gave only an outline of an old-fashioned dress on the girl. The portrait was faded a little, as though the color had been stolen away from the sunlight.

Her eyes shifted from looking at the painting, to a queen-sized bed. Red and purple cloth swam on top of the wide mattress. Two lumps slept underneath the fabric, in silence. Foolish....how foolish... she thought as she lowered her hand to her side, tightening her grip on the knife’s handle. She watched the bed for a few more moments, before leaving the room.

Sirens blared from a distance as the woman walked calmly through the narrow hallway. Moonlight poured into the stairwell as she descended down to what she thought would be freedom. Holding the knife tightly, she could hear her bare feet tap against the wooden steps. Once she reached the ground floor, she formed a twisted grin. Her eyes spotted the flashing red and blue lights from in front of the house and she strolled into the kitchen. She placed the knife onto the white-tiled countertop and opened a bronze-covered cabinet above. Inside were some dishes and glasses. Her hands reached for a small wine-glass and she pulled it off of the shelf.

Her feet tiptoed over to the small fridge and she opened the door, taking out a small bottle of wine. It was a classic red color. The bottle itself was curved like an old milk bottle. The metal cap turned easily and a small amount of wine was poured into the glass. The bubbling taste hit her mouth like an electric shock when she touched it to her lips. She closed her eyes as images began to flood her mind.

~His face was full of happiness as he embraced her. His tanned skin was warm and felt safe. A gentle smile played on his subtle lips and his emerald-green eyes had a gorgeous sparkle to them. Black hair curled around his ears and forehead. His heartbeat was soothing to listen to…~

The sirens were louder now, and she could hear footsteps approaching the front door, smacking against the cold, concrete path. Damn, I wanted to enjoy my last drink, she thought, putting down the glass. She was now in front of the kitchen sink, and she noticed a large butcher knife sitting in a wooden holder, its blade smiling at her, calling out to her. Her hand touched the plastic handle and she watched as a couple policemen slammed into the front door. Their faces seemed so serious through the round window on the top of the door. A gentle sigh escaped through the woman’s lips.

It is futile, men, she thought. When you come in, you will be too late to stop what I have started. Never again will they make love in our bed. Never again will they taste each other's tongues in a heated passion. Never again will they slither behind my back with cover-ups such as board meetings or parties. Her mind wandered as she lifted the knife to her throat, the tip tickling at her soft skin, teasing her. Never again will I be able to feel love for someone, for myself, for life. And neither will they.

~His hold was so comforting…His breathing was like a classical piece of beautiful music to her ears as he protected her from the harsh world around them. Never fear, for the love between then would always be strong, he would say…~

She closed her eyes as the door busted open a few feet away from her. With a quick swipe, she felt all her anger and hatred melt away into a pool of light. She could see the beautiful stars above, and smell the sweet scents of lavender mixed with wine as her final moments shriveled into nothing. Her blood-drenched body hit the ground, her whimpers like a dying kitten. The policemen would hold her up and check her pulse, only to find none. They would walk into the bedroom upstairs and see the two lumps in the bed: a man and a woman naked, shredded from stabs, blood staining the once purple sheets.

It was a terrible and yet beautiful sight of death. And it was like artwork through the vanity mirror. Through the smeared writing of lipstick, words spelled out, "Beauty is Death, and Death is Love, and You are the one I Love the Most."