12 August 2012
She stares the reflection, her face a stony, emotionless mask. Her pale skin is stretched tightly over her hollow cheekbones, her skeletal face pinched and sharp. Her frame is skin and bones; nothing more. Her once radiant face is drained of all colour. Her once beautiful mane of vibrant red hair is limp and lifeless.
She is a ghost of what she once was.
All because of the object she now holds in her hand.
She knows this.
She knows too much.
She screams in rage, a blood chilling, endless howl that radiates all her anger, all her despair.
Anger and despair at what this has done to her, at what it has done to her life.
And she hurls it across the room.
The mirror hits the wall and slides to the ground, shattered.
Reflection • Opuss № I