Blade

I was stood, frozen, facing the old ornate mirror, and too scared to open my eyes.
It was quite dark in the room, but there'd been enough light for me to see the thing do its work, and even with my eyes closed in a vain attempt to block it from my senses, the pain was very real indeed.
It had started innocently enough. I'd been wandering around an old market, drifting in and around the stalls, all of them selling wondrous objects from all over. I was about to leave when it caught my eye. It had a kind of strangely shaped handle, but it was the blade, clearly very sharp, glinting in the shadow of the stalls canopy, that gained my attention. The stallholder and I engaged in some banal conversation and finally we reached a price. I had to have it.
I needed it.
I returned home as fast as I could, for I was eager to get a better look at the thing. I placed it in front of the mirror, a huge thing in a gilt painted old wooden frame. Not particularly handsome, but a family heirloom nonetheless, and I loved it. I was tired though, and fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming about all manner of things.

When I awoke, I could feel an itching at my neck. I scratched, but it wouldn't go. I looked around the room. It was dark, but at the mirror there was some light coming in from another room, and I could see the thing. I didn't remember taking it from its wrapping, but I must have.
The light caught the blade, and it shone down its entire length, teasing, taunting, use me...use me...
No. I would resist. Surely the time hadn't arrived already? But the itch...the urge...
I crossed the room and stood in front of the mirror. I stared at my reflection, and then at the blade. Use me...
The itching was driving me mad!
Use me...
Desperately, I clawed at my neck to try to relieve the infernal itching!
Use me...use me...
Enough! I picked it up, and as the light fully illuminated the blade, my reflection in the mirror seemed to laugh at me as I drew it across my neck. The pain came instantly.
I screamed and dropped the thing, closing my eyes, and afraid to open them again for I could feel the warmth of my blood flowing over my fingers.
I stood there for what seemed to be an eternity as the blood seeped down my neck, my shirt and then to the floor.
How had it come to this?
What had I done?
What had I done...
Finally, I opened my eyes, and screamed ever louder...

That is the last time I attempt to shave a five day growth with a Bic razor...