In the Eye of the Mirror Holder

She despised that woman

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And so is sanity, she thought. She looked into the antique mirror she had in front of her. Beautiful once, but now smudged, cracked and unloved. Yet she couldn’t help but look into it.

She hated that woman in the mirror — her heavy eyes; her frayed hair. Most of all, she hated that apathetic blankness sitting perpetually on her pale and neglected skin. That’s what scared her the most. There was a feeling that she didn’t belong there and didn’t care. She didn’t care at all that she wasn’t meant to be in her little mirror looking back at her.

Thonk! Thonk! Thonk! The loud knocking rocked her from her thoughts and she glanced towards her door, brushing her wispy hair at the brow.

Thonk! Thonk! Thonk! Louder and more insistent now. She still wasn’t sure where it came from. That is, until the woman in the mirror raised her hand and —

THONK! THONK! THONK!

She despised that woman in her mirror.