Mirror, Mirror...

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall…” Mary softly hummed as she ran the brush through her long straight hair and studied her reflection. 1

She smiled and her reflection smiled with her. She was ready to meet the day.2

She danced her way down the stairs, bumping into the wall once on her way down and laughing at her own clumsiness.3

“Mary Contrary!” her mother called from the kitchen, “are you breaking the walls again?”4

“No!” Mary laughed again, “But you might give them a talking to- every morning they try to push me down the stairs!”5

“And I suppose you’ve the bruises to prove it?” she asked as Mary joined her in the kitchen.6

Mary winced and lifted her sleeve showing a yellow discoloration on her shoulder, “And just as the last one was fading…”7

“Mary, Mary! What am I going to do with you?” Her mother smiled and ruffled her hair.8

“Mom!” Mary complained in that way teenagers have, “You’ve ruined my hair!”9

Her mother shook her head with a smile as Mary raced to the bathroom to repair the damage, “Don’t take too long, Mary Contrary. You’ve still got to eat your breakfast!”10

“Not hungry,” Mary called back as she re-brushed her hair.11

She spoke to her reflection, “She’s very silly, my mum- I never eat breakfast. She should know that,” Mary shook her head, unconsciously mirroring her mother’s gesture12

***13

Mary was running late, as usual. Last bell would have long since rung by the time she arrived.14

She carefully applied her lipstick and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror as she drove along the final stretch.15

The car suddenly jolted and went into a swerve, smearing her lipstick across her cheek. She cursed and brought the vehicle to a stop at the side of the road. She had never really mastered the art of changing tires- had never had too. This was the first time she’d had a blowout.16

Only it wasn’t a blowout.17

Mary, after fixing her make-up, got out of the car and was shocked to see a small figure crumpled at the side of the road.18

Her heart in her throat, Mary cautiously approached the prone figure.19

A child.20

She swallowed convulsively, “I’m in a dream,” she told herself, “A dream. I’ll wake up any moment…”21

The child whimpered.22

“God…” Mary whispered. A curse or a prayer- it might have been either.23

She’d hit a child. A little… it was a girl. A little girl. Bleeding on the road.24

“Hush,” said Mary, trying to mask her own panic and fear, “I’ll take you to someone who can help.”25

She carefully picked up the small girl and carried her back to the car.26

The girl cried silently, accusing tears slipping down her bloodied and muddied face.27

“Hush,” Mary said again, “you’ll be alright.”28

She laid the little girl out on the seat next to her own. As she slipped back into the driver’s side, she lifted the girl’s head and placed it on her lap.29

“It won’t be long,” she said in an attempt to comfort the girl.30

And it wasn’t.31

The little girl died on the way to the hospital.32

Mary felt her stop breathing. She had not been aware of the movement of air in and out of the small child’s body until it stopped.33

Then it became the most important thing in the world.34

She raced the rest of the way and ran into the Emergency room cradling the dead child in her arms.35

“Somebody, help!” she screamed.36

A nurse appeared at a run with the sound of her anguished cry and took the girl from her. No sooner was the child out of her arms than Mary ran. She ran as though pursued by hounds of hell, out of the hospital and into her car.37

The passenger seat was soaked in blood, as was her clothing. She gunned the engine and took off.38

It might have been months or mere moments that she spent behind the wheel, but sooner than she knew it, Mary found herself back in her own home.39

She stumbled up to her room.40

She gazed at her reflection in the mirror as she entered and thought to herself, “I don’t know you…” 41

She couldn’t believe that the pale and frightened image staring back at her with expressions of horror had any relation to herself.42

“I…” her voice faltered when she saw that her reflection spoke with her, “I’m not that person. I don’t do… this,” she stared down at the keys she still held in her hand and reflexively threw them aside as though they were living things.43

“No…” but there was blood on her hands. It was real. She could see it. She could feel it.44

She looked again at her reflection, and for the first time realized how horribly backward it was, “I’m not that person!” she cried, “That’s not me at all!”45

But it was.46

Blood on her hands. Blood on the mirror.47

Mary touched her face. Now there was blood there too.48

The bloodied reflection of a killer…49

“No!” she screamed. She threw herself at the mirror as though obliterating the reflection would shatter the reality.50

Shards of mirror glass fell around her and now some of the blood was her own. She looked down at the fractured pieces and saw fragments of herself reflected within them. Broken fragments of what had so recently been a blemishless whole… 51