I felt the cold stream of sweat drop from my forehead as I stared at him. I watched him from a tiny crack within a large pile of desks that had been haphazardly thrown on top of each other. I had managed to outrun him and hide throughout his entire killing spree in the building, but he and I both knew it wasn’t over until it was over. If he wasn’t looking for me yet, he definitely would be soon. And then I felt the urge to cough. I clasped my hands over my mouth as the incessant itch in my throat put me in a deadly position. My eyes began to water as I held back the cough longer and longer. Longer and longer I waited. Longer and longer I stared at him, waiting and praying for him to leave the room. As I had that very thought, he finally turned to the door and placed his hand on the handle. I opened my eyes wider as I silently begged him to leave the room. Maybe I can actually survive this I thought. He turned the handle. The itch in my throat was unbearable. I felt the cough trying to escape my lips. The door slowly opened and I watched him exit the large abandoned conference room. He shut the door behind him and I finally let my cough out as quietly as I could manage. I then waited in silence to find out if he heard me and was coming back for me. I waited for a long while and realized that he hadn’t. I stayed crouched in my hiding spot going over my options in my head. If I stay put and wait for help, none might come and he will surely circle back here and find me. It was a miracle that he hadn’t found me in the first place. If I try to run, I put myself at more risk of being found. As I thought of my plan I grew more and more panicked. I am most likely not getting out of here alive. I stood up from where I was crouched and stretched my legs. My knee joints popped loudly and I again whipped my head up and watched the door, waiting for it to come flying open. Nothing happened. Ultimately, I decided to try to get outside and get help. I might die in doing so, but at least I’ll die trying to do the right thing, I guess. I tip-toed around the desk pile and over to the door. It had a fogged glass window and I couldn’t see the shape of anyone outside. I took a deep breath, and with my heart sitting low in my stomach, I slowly opened the door. “There you are.” I heard him say. I quickly turned my head in his direction and saw him leaning against the wall nonchalantly. He was sweaty and clearly tired. He was covered in blood and finger-nail scratches. He held he axe with a dark bloodied hand. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. “I - I - I, y-y-you.” I stammered out. I wasn’t sure what I was trying to say. I started to feel light headed and nauseous at the same time. “Relax,” He began, eerily calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Suddenly all the contents in my stomach proceeded to exit out of my mouth at a violent rate. He looked on in obvious disgust. “Bro. Gross.” He said simply. I keeled over and placed my hands on my knees. My eyes were stinging with tears. Snot pooled out of my nostrils. He continued standing there, seemingly waiting for my vomit-fest to end. When I finally felt able, I stood upright and looked at him. “You good?” He asked, casually tapping the side of the axe against his leg. I cautiously watched it swing back and forth. I cleared my throat. “Yeah. I feel better now.” I muttered, not sure what else to say. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my body. The fight or flight, however, I couldn’t decide on. “Glad to hear it. Well then,” He said, turning around and beginning to walk away. I felt stuck in place. I felt flushed and frustrated. “Wait!” I suddenly called out. I was surprised at myself. What the fuck am I doing!? He turned around. “Why did you do this!?” I asked desperately. He shrugged. “I never belonged here anyway.”

I could hear the music in the distance, the bass pulsating in the skeevy restroom, practically shaking the mirror I was staring in. Sweat glistened on my brow, causing my bangs to stick to my forehead. I did my best to make them look more attractive, but quickly gave up with a huff. I leaned closer to inspect my makeup, and decided to reapply my lipstick. Dude Killer this shade was called, a darkish scarlet red. How fitting I thought to myself with a smirk. As I felt around in my purse for the lipstick, my fingers brushed against cold metal, as they did I met my eyes in the mirror briefly. Not a second later, I found the lipstick, brushed it across my lips, and with one more satisfied glance at my reflection, I turned around and opened the door to the dance floor, where little did I know, I was about to meet my past and perhaps, my fate.

I effortlessly slipped back into the crowd, swaying my hips, running my fingers through my hair, pretending to be lost in the music. In all honesty, I was half tempted to let go for the briefest of moments. I made a mental note to come back to this club on my night off. It was a hole-in-the-wall type of place. One of those places that you only come across by word of mouth. It was sweaty, dingey. The walls were covered in graffiti and the furniture was falling apart, but the drinks were cheap and the DJ on point.
I subtlety glanced around the room in search of my target. Cillian Phoenix, son of Kelsey Phoenix, underworld queen and rival of my current employer. Not one to keep a low profile, I quickly spotted him in one of the “VIP” sections, if you could call it that. I made my way to the bar.

I met Cillian’s eyes from my seat at the bar. I had a bottle of champagne sent over to him with my regards. I watched as he poured himself a glass and raised it in my direction with a smirk. I raised my own glass in return and winked. _Now walk over here you cute bastard _I thought to myself as I took a sip, not once dropping his gaze. He raised his free hand in a gesture for me to join him and his posse. Scrunching my nose in a way that I might hope was cute or sultry and shook my head.
“Come on.” He mouthed to me and made a big show of pouting. I wiggled my index finger in response. Cillian dramatically rolled his eyes and stood up, champagne in hand and walked over to me, leaving his posse behind. _Gotcha._
What else can I say but that he was tall and handsome? His jet-black hair was slicked back, with the exception of a couple of locks that had escaped and hung aesthetically in front of his face. His white dress shirt was halfway undone, exposing a chiseled chest and a sparkling gold chain. He wore a gold Rolex on his right wrist, and perfectly tailored black slacks that I imagine were produced by some famous designer. It was a shame to kill someone this beautiful, but hey, the bills gotta get paid.
“I just came over to say thanks for the bottle. I’m Cillian Phoenix. And you are?” He spoke with confidence, smoothing out his words like a snake charmer.
“Eden.” I replied simply. Cillian raised his eyebrows.
“Biblical. I love it. Why don’t you come join me and my friends, Eden?” He asked, taking a step closer to me. I had to admit, scent was intoxicating. Whatever the cologne was that he was wearing was worth every pretty penny.
“Why would I do that when I could have you all to myself?” I asked grinning devilishly and leaning in towards him. As I leaned forward, I quickly and subtley put one poison-laced fingernail in his champagne glass and took it out again. Cillian smiled broadly and took another step closer to me, completely closing the gap between us. He slipped a hand onto the small of my back and lowered his head towards my face. I smiled back at him and then pulled away. I took a hold of my drink and raised it. Cillian took his and clinked it together.
I then heard the unmistakable click of a gun ready to fire behind me.

“Nice try. Get away from him and get out of here before I decorate this bar with your brain matter.” 
The voice was familiar. It couldn’t be.
My heart started racing, I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I watched Cillian quickly turn around and duck out of the club. I felt frozen to my spot.
“It’s you.” I said simply.
“It’s you.” I repeated after me, clearly remembering who I was. I closed my eyes for a moment and imagined him as I last remembered him. Young, bright, smiling at me in the sunlight. Kissing me under the bleachers. I took a quick breath, reached into my bag, and taking hold of my gun. I whipped around and aimed it right between his eyes. I heard screaming as the other patrons of the club noticed to people pointing guns at each other and began running for the exits. It all began to sound muffled as I continued staring into his eyes. My first love’s eyes.
“Take your shot, stranger.” He said. “You‘ll only get one.”

He was gone, now. Every morning, while I was checking how I look or doing my makeup, he would come up behind me, hold me, and stare at my reflection with me. He would smile, kiss my neck, tell me I’m beautiful. His reflection didn’t appear this time. He was gone. I stared into the mirror willing him to come back. I stared into my own eyes. I had dark circles under them from lack of sleep and crying too much. My hair was unbrushed, I clenched a tissue in my right hand. I continued staring as I masochistically replayed last night’s events in my mind.

He zipped the suitcase closed and pulled it upright. I had watched him pack wordlessly for nearly an hour, quietly sobbing. He was finally finished and looked at me.
“Please don’t go.” I finally said, my voice breaking in between my sobs. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough. Not this time.” He said coldly.
“What can I do?” I begged. His brow furrowed, his eyes started watering. He sniffed, dragging his sleeve across his face.
“Nothing. I have to go.” He said as the tears started to fall. He leaned down and pulled out the pull-handle of the suitcase. He dragged it behind him as he pushed past me.
“Please don’t do this.” I called after him. He stopped, his hand gripping the door knob. He turned around again, his expression was softer, now.
“I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff another day. I’ll call you to arrange it. Please don’t contact me.” He said. I wanted to scream, fall to my knees, beg him to stay. I couldn’t move, the pain was unbearable. I said nothing. He turned back around, grabbed his car keys off the hook by the door, and left.
I stood there, staring at the door for what felt like hours. I stood there until I couldn’t stand anymore and just turned around, and went to bed.

The tears began to fall again and I watched them trickle down my face in my reflection. Then I saw movement. It was like the mirror rippled, like a pond someone threw a rock into. I rubbed my eyes. _I need more sleep _I thought. I looked into the mirror again, it rippled again but stronger. I gasped in surprise and jumped backwards. That’s when she appeared.
In the mirror, it looked like she walked into the room from the door behind me, but when I turned around, no one was there. I turned back to face the mirror, she was still standing there. She was striking. She stood there staring with ice blue eyes. She had platinum blonde hair that tumbled down to her waist in waves. Her midnight blue dress accentuated her curvy figure and fair skin.
“Hello?” I said, meekly. I started shaking out of fear.
“Hello.” She responded simply. I turned around again, searching for her where she should have been standing, I found no one. I turned back to the mirror.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I asked, my voice cracking in fear.
“My name is Storm. I can help you.” She said, walking towards me. In my reflection, she was now standing beside me. I could have felt the warmth radiating from her body if she were really here.
“Help me?” I asked.
“You want him back, don’t you?” She said. 
“How do you know about that?!” My heart was pounding in my chest. I could feel my palms start to sweat.
“Well, one look at you could tell me everything even if I didn’t know, but the truth is, I feel bad. We’ve been watching your story play out for a long time now. I just couldn’t let it end here.” She said, crossing her arms, giving me a sympathetic look.
“We? Watching? What are you talking about?”
“All in due time. Do you want my help or not?” She asked, seemingly getting frustrated.
“How could you help me?” I asked, genuinely curious despite everything.
“I could make it so your little transgression never happened.” She said, a smirk creeping on her face. The mirror rippled again, it practically shaking. The cocky look on Storm’s face dropped.
“I have to go.” She said. “Yes or no?!” I met her eyes in the mirror.
“Yes.” I said simply. The second I accepted, a crack formed in the mirror. Storm met my eyes.
“See you soon.” She said as she turned around and walked out of my bedroom. Or what seems to be my bedroom in her world, whatever or wherever that is. I reached up and touched the crack in the mirror. When I pulled my hand away, a bit of skin caught on the glass and cut my finger open. I looked down at the blood that began pooling on the tip of my finger. When I looked back up to the mirror I saw my reflection, only it was different. It was me, but I was just standing there. I also looked almost completely different. My hair was a bit longer, my skin a bit clearer, and wearing a rather stylish outfit. The look on my face was grave and serious.
“You’ve made a huge mistake.” My reflection said.

I could see the house ahead in the distance, I let out a sigh of relief. I had been walking for hours on this seemingly endless path and the sun was just starting to set. I was cold, hungry and tired and seeing that house up ahead gave me hope that I could finally get some rest. I picked up the pace a bit and continued down the path when I suddenly heard rustling near by. I stopped and turned in the direction of the sound of movement in the field, standing there was a man, tall and slim. He was far away so it was difficult to make out any specific features, but he seemed familiar. He was looking at me too. We stood there for a while staring at each other and I felt uneasy. _Is he dangerous? _I thought. I looked away from him and set my eyes on the house again. If I could get there, I could be safe. I started walking along the path again and I heard the rustling again. He was definitely following me. I took off running and so did he. My lungs started burning as I inhaled the sharp, cold air. I kept running, not daring to look behind me. The house got closer and closer until I finally reached the gate. I put my hand on the metal handle. “Stop!” I heard a man’s voice say. It was him, the one who had been following me. “Don’t go in there!” He continued. Wait, I know that voice I suddenly realized. It was Jeremy, my high school sweetheart. He was my first everything, including my first devastating break up. “Jeremy?” I asked as he approached me. I hadn’t seen him in 14 years. He was still as handsome as he was then with smooth, thick chestnut brown hair, dark brown almond shape eyes, and delicate freckles splashed across his face. However, he also looked different. Not just 14 years older different, but a strange, can’t-quite-put-your-finger-on-it different. “You can’t go in there.” He said again, seemingly ignoring this crazy coincidence of us running into each other in this almost desolate field, on this run down path in the middle of nowhere. “What? Why?” I asked, registering his distress. “You will die in there if you do.” He said. My heart gave a jolt. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Come with me.” He said, offering his hand. “Go with you where?” I asked, frustrated and flabbergasted. I was scared, hungry, and cold. My patience started to meet its end. “Please, just trust me. I don’t want it to happen to you, too.” The look in his eyes told me he was deeply serious, and deeply worried. Despite my better judgement, I took his hand. A look of relief flashed across his face. He started guiding me back down the path, in the direction from which I came. “Jeremy, answer me, please. What is it you know? What makes you say I would die in there?” I asked, following behind him, still gripping his hand. It was ice cold, but soft. A memory of us walking hand in hand on our way to my house after school flitted across my mind. “I know because,” He paused. It was clear he didn’t want to say what he was about to say. “Because what?” I asked, not even trying to hide my flustered tone. “Because I died in there.”

_This is the second crash this week _I thought to myself as I shoveled up snow around the ship. This one was bigger than the last one, but they looked similar. As much as I would like to be amazed and intrigued by this scientific and historic marvel, I couldn’t shake the feeling of just wanting to change my cold, wet socks as I shoveled small pile after small pile of snow, digging up the alien space ship from its crash site. “Do you think one is inside?” Monty asked, his voice muffled by his snow suit. “Definitely. What are you gonna ask it first?” I asked, still shoveling. “I wanna know if it’s ever tried a Big Mac.” Monty replied. “You are obsessed.” I say. “What can I say? Our little McDonalds adventure changed my life.” I could hear his smile behind the snow suit. He took a breath and shoveled a couple more piles of snow. “I just couldn’t believe you had never had it before.” I said in between shovels. Monty chuckled. “What are you gonna ask it?” “Dunno. To take me to its leader, I guess.” Monty and I both laughed. There was a huge clang, we both turned around. “We’ve got it, boys!” The site manager called. Monty and I stopped shoveling and ran to the other side of the ship where the suspected entrance was. The whole entrance had been dug out of the snow and now 4 of my coworkers wielding crowbars were attempting to pry open the door. I stopped breathing as I anticipated the door opening. With a loud groan, the door opened. All we could see was a narrow staircase leading into the inner part of the ship. A bunch of us looked around at each other. Who would go inside? Had this been discussed beforehand? Before anyone could speak, I deafening screaming came blaring out from inside the ship. Instantly, I brought my hands to my ears and my coworkers all did the same. Except Monty, he just stood there, staring. I wanted to say something to him but the shrieking was so loud it felt like it was rattling my bones. Monty started walking towards the ship. “Monty!” I shouted to him. He ignored me and kept walking. “MONTY!!” I shouted again. Monty suddenly stopped. He turned around, making eye contact with me, clearly unfazed by the monstrous shrieking coming from the ship. “What are you doing!? It’s dangerous!” I called to him. Monty still said nothing, but then he winked. “Thanks for the burger!” He called back. “What!?” Monty turned back around and started running towards the ship. I saw a couple of the other guys on site try to stop him, but when they uncovered their ears, they fell to the ground in pain. A moment later, Monty disappeared inside the ship. I stood there unmoving. I was completely shocked. What had my friend done? Did I just witness someone take their own life? And then suddenly, a blinding flash of light. I heard more screams coming from my coworkers, screams of pain and terror as I fell backward, being pushed by some invisible force. Then everything went black. When I came to, I was greeted by silence. Eerie silene, except of course for the ringing in my ears. I was cold, so so cold. I sat up, it was gone. The ship was gone. Not even a single bolt could be seen forgotten in the snow, only the indentation was left behind. And then I realized it. Silence. What about everyone else? With a jolt I looked around me, all of my colleagues and friends laid on the snow, decorating it with their blood. Many of them clearly having been decapitated or had other limbs cut off. It was Monty. I thought. He spared me. The memory of his eyes rolling in the back of his head in bliss as he chewed his first bite of his very first Big Mac flitted into my mind. “This whole time,” I said into the sharp, cold air. “You were one of them.”