“Did you see that?”
The man before me was a horror. It’s pale face was twisted in anguish like a Halloween mask held to the fire. It scratched at it’s scalp, at the visible, glistening wounds that ran like muddy rivulets between tuffs of matted hair. It’s eyes, milky and dull, were set deep into it’s skull. It’s jaw hung slack. Teeth haphazardly stacked like a tombstone lying abandoned upon a vandalised grave. A monster. Always watching. I hated it.
What was it’s intentions?
Mary approached from across the room. She was wearing a smile and lavender perfume. She had tied her hair up into a bun. Her plastic gloves hissed as they brushed against her scrubs whilst she walked. She peered over my shoulder and inspected the man with narrowed eyes. Then, she shook her head, convinced by it’s disguise.
“Sorry, Mr Rosenthorpe,” Mary said with a shrug. Her hand pressed against my back. A touch as brief as a breath. “I don’t know what you’re seeing.”
You’re seeing mine own death.
“My reflection,” I said—the ghoul now raised a gnarled finger—“it isn’t quite right.”
The fleeting darkness in Mary’s face was a cloud passing over the sun. Then a smile, pressed up high into her cheeks, revealing every one of her teeth.
“Have you taken your—”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“There!” I said, pointing again. “Look at the eyes. Those liar’s eyes.”
Mary frowned at the mirror. “I—”
“Just watch,” I said, “wait for me to blink.”
“Why?”
“Just do it. Please.”
Mary’s eyes snapped down to the floor. She blew out a sigh, then withdrew and turned to the door. “I’m sorry, Mr Rosenthorpe. I’ll ask the doctor to see you again.”
“No,” I said, making a grab for her, then, upon seeing the whites of her eyes, the grimace tug at her mouth, I wilted like a flower clipped at the stem.
Mary walked away.
Of course she couldn’t see it. She hadn’t the practice. Hours spent inspecting the mirror, watching it learn and improve. It rarely made mistakes. Too quick, too cunning. An expert at knowing when to reveal itself. Usually when I was at my worst.
I turned back to the man, closed my eyes and rolled them against my lids to get them good and wet. I opened them again and fixed the mirror with an unwavering stare. I didn’t need Mary to see. I saw it and that was all that mattered. I saw on behalf of everyone. My eyes were the world’s eyes.
I leaned in until my cornea pressed against the cold glass. The black of it’s pupil was all I could see. This was my challenge. I was ready to resist until the very end. I’d save myself, save everyone—the world, even. If I was relentless in my resolve, I could be a goddamned hero.
I just had to catch it out. Wait for another mistake. This was it. I wouldn’t blink until it did.
