Reflections

I had no confidence in myself at all. I had sat on the end of my bed staring at magazines of pretty skinny girls with blonde hair and no bingo wings. But today was going to be different. Today I decided to do something about it. Out with the old in with the new. I decided to start a new diet and join the gym, I went shopping and bought new clothes and treated myself to a manicure and a haircut. It was an exhausting day but I felt exhilarated.

I dumped my new purchases on the bed and started to try things on. Over and over again I matched different items trying to find the perfect outfit to put a smile on my face. But frustrated I’d pull them off toss them on the ground puff out my belly and huff at the ugly that was me in the mirror. I stood naked in front of it tilting my head sideways and squinting whilst pulling on the folds of skin hiding my stomach. I stood staring at my face in the looking glass when I noticed it blink. I started to panic and took a step backwards but my reflection stayed still. I grabbed one of the stilettos I just bought off the floor and stabbed at the mirror. It cracked looking like a giants spider web but didn’t break. Big mistake.

I had pissed off the reflection. I had angered the other me. The reflection reached out of the mirror and grabbed at me pulling me in. I looked around. My room was backwards. I stared at the mirror and watched as my reflection took my place. She smirked, turned and dressed herself. Then my legs went from underneath me as she left the room. I was stuck here. I didn’t want to break the mirror in case I couldn’t get back. I quickly threw on some clothes and decided to see if I could leave the room too. The door wouldn’t open. I was locked in.

I began searching the room for any mistakes or a way out but I couldn’t find one. Screaming for help wouldn’t do me any good. I had given up and sat on the end of the bed for several minutes before the reflection returned.

She walked in brandishing a huge knife. I tried to scream but no sound came out. She smirked at me again, tilted her head and with the sharp knife started to hack off the hair I had just had done. I watched as my long brown locks hit the floor in chunks and when it was practically all gone she simply walked back out the room.

I sat there hopeless for over an hour until she came back. She had dyed it. She had bleached what was left of my locks white. She opened a bag that she had brought in with her and started taking things out and lining them up on the bedside table. I couldn’t see what they were. She walked back over to the mirror and removed her clothes.

'Why are you doing this?' I tried to ask but again no sound came out. She knew what I was saying though because she picked up the magazine and showed me the picture of the skinny blonde model in the bikini that I wished I looked like.

She held the knife in one hand and raised her other arm and began slicing. She was removing chunks of my arms, my bingo wings I called them. I screamed in horror. I tried to close my eyes to not see what she was doing. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t look away. She did each arm then moved on to her stomach slicing right across it. I watched as blood covered the room, the bed, carpet the clothes still strewn across it. I kept screaming No over and over but she stood there eyes fixed on me with that smirk across her face. Once she had done she dropped the knife just missing her toes and headed back to the bedside table. She brought items over to the mirror for me to see. Needle and thread. She began stitching herself up pulling the skin as tight as she could not even flinching with pain. Tears were rolling down my face as she tortured my body for several hours. She was done. She left the room again and came back wet. She had washed herself.

She reached for her bag again and brought out a bikini, immediately putting it on. It was like the one from the magazine. She stood and admired herself in front of me and then for the first time she spoke.

'You like?' she said holding out her arms and giving a little twirl. She picked up the magazine and showed me. 'It’s what you wanted isn’t it?'

I shook my head. 'No, No, No' I shouted as I stepped back. 'I don’t want any of this, I want to be me, I want to be me, please stop!'

She smirked. I really hate that smirk. I wonder if I actually do that. I want to punch reflection me in the face so much right now.

'Come closer' she beckoned.

I shook my head and stepped further back

'Come closer' she repeated holding out her hand.

I moved forward grabbed her hand and pulled her in. I was back in my room again. The way it was before. There was no blood or water. The clothes I had bought were in bags on the bed, untouched and there was no knifes or needles anywhere. I looked back at the mirror, there was no crack and my reflection moved as it should.

Shakily, I picked up a bag from the bed and tried on some denim shorts with a tank top. I looked in the mirror. My reflection shook her head, I froze for a moment then smiled because for some reason this time, I didn’t seem afraid.

'Jacket?' I asked, and she nodded

I grabbed a jacket and it did look good. I held up a pair of trainers and heels and watched as she pointed to the trainers. I completed my outfit and admired my reflection.

'Thank you' I said as I lent forward and kissed my reflection. 'But next time, don't be so dramatic'