The Reflection

Morgan fights the battle between life and death--in front of a bathroom mirror

“Give me one reason why you should live.”

The reflection in the bathroom mirror had been speaking for the past two hours. She carried a hungry gleam in her eyes, as if what she had been hoping for for years was finally coming true.

Morgan slumped against the door. She had been having this conversation for twelve hours straight. All of it was in a blur. Maybe it was because she had been blinded by tears for the majority of the day. Or maybe it was because she was trying to deny everything.

She gazed back at the mirror. Her reflection was identical in appearance: same acne-crusted, pockmarked skin, the unruly frizz of black hair, and the round face which no one found appealing. Yet when her reflection smirked at her, her demenour completely changed.

“There is no reason why you should be here,” the reflection hissed, leering at Morgan.

Morgan gulped. “Yes there is--” she said, “I need to be there for Mom and Cory now that--”

“Your mother doesn’t need you. And neither does your brother. They don’t want you.”

This was too logical to ignore. When Morgan’s mother had discovered the self-inflicted cuts on Morgan’s arms and legs, an explosion had practically occurred. Violent yells were exchanged. Morgan’s mother refused to take her daughter for therapy out of fear of social services.

Morgan’s mother lived to control her. From birth she had been a pawn in her mother’s game to formulate the ideal daughter. And she couldn’t live up to that anymore.

But Cory’s betrayal was the worst. He knew about the pain, the scars, the suffering. And he watched it all happen--without so much of a word of comfort for his sister.  He watched Morgan descend, witnessed her tears and agony, all while not moving a finger.

Morgan felt as if she had been stabbed. A pain was growing in her abdomen and spreading throughout her body; she was shaking so hard that part of her wanted to bang her head against the wall and end this.

No, she thought, Time to calm down. She stripped off her clothes and looked at herself in the mirror.  The sight of her naked almost made her break down again; the fat rolling off her thighs and buttocks was too much to bear. She stumbled toward the shower and turned the water on, turning the dial till the shower burned. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to bring up the best of memories in life, attempting to formulate a reason to live.

But nothing came up. No memory--no one for the matter. She was not wanted. She would never be wanted. Wasn’t it that simple?

The feeling of the steaming water rushing on her back brought back memories. Not memories exactly, but flashbacks. Flashbacks of people who had someone worth living for. Her “best friend”’s boyfriend who secretly back-talked her. The homecoming queen and her boyfriend. Her mother and her father during their wedding--long before her father went bonkers with Alzhiemer’s of course, back in the days when he would defend his daughter.

“Yes....” the reflection snarled, its eyes turning from brown to red, “You will never be loved. And you will have to live with that everyday for the rest of your life.”

“Shut up,” Morgan said, her teeth clenched.

“We both know the truth,” the reflection smiled at her, “So will you do it or shall I?”

Morgan had had enough. She slipped out of the tub, wearing nothing but a towel. “Just stop,” she spat, staring straight into the mirror.

“How pathetic,” the reflection laughed, “as if---”

Morgan never discovered what her reflection was going to say because in the next few seconds she had whipped out her shaving razor and stabbed it straight into the mirror. She dug deeper, trying to rip apart the artery around the neck. Everything was turning red, the reflection was screaming, Morgan was full-on attacking the mirror while screaming as well....

And then she blinked. In front of her stood a naked, ugly girl with blood running down her neck and heart. She saw tears run down the girl’s face for a second before she blacked out.

Reviews

[W.C. Legere]

Very well written and very deep. The imagery was very powerful and even though the subject matter of the story was hard to get past I was compelled to keep reading. That is the mark of a good writer - to pull the reader in and keep them trapped within the confines of the story. VERY well done! You have a talent...don't let it slip by! Use it!