Is that my reflection I see before me?
Eyes damp and red
Hair matted like an old dolls from the frustrated hands gripping at it
Making her look mad?
Nay, it cannot be!
Not such a pitiable creature as that
why does she mimic me?
What manner of witchery is this that she uses to mock me so
She cannot be me.
And yet, her wrenched sobs mimic mine
As I begin to fall unexpectedly apart
Have I gone mad?
Is this a dream?
Please say it is
Please say I have not fallen this low
I extend a hand to the glass
My sweaty palm pressed up against it
Our hands meet
She is me
The wicked truth of what I have become
Such an expression I know I do not wear upon my face!
I knew it! I knew she was not me!
That she could not be me!
She tilts her head
I shake mine
Her eyes turn cold and that smirk stays plastered upon her horrid mock face
Her hand, still upon the glass with mine, turns to talons
The glass! It cracked!
She has cracked it!
Did she speak?
she calls to me in a voice meant for a frightened child
yet her lips, did I see them move?
I did not!
This cannot be real!
I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming!
I fall back in fear and her talons grip my arm
She draws blood and I realize that this is no dream
This is my fate
My own treacherous insanity
It's time to go Laurel
She pulls me inside
Into the mirror
And all goes black.