Every day, Rebecca stared into the mirror. She stared at it as she picked her skin; as she tried on outfits; as she did her makeup, all day, every day. She must look perfect on all occasions, no matter what. Even if she were rushing or anxious or depressed, she must look perfect. Her reflection did too. Or so she thought it did.

Sometimes, when she was grabbing something from her closet or removing her glasses, something quite strange would occur. Her reflection would blink repeatedly or flicker across the room. Not that Rebecca would notice, for it would return to normal once she glared back. When she did, she brushed it off; most likely just a trick of the light, she thought.

But before long, the reflection’s shenannigans began to become more noticeable. She wouldn’t stop while Rebecca looked back, and she was not the perfection Rebecca needed. Her eye bags became increasingly heavy; her makeup became smeared; the whites of her eyes became red; and her skin began to sag. The mirror is faulty, Rebecca thought. It is time to replace it. So, she swapped her mirror for one that was twice as large. All the better to observe herself and her beauty.

But the paranormal spread. Loud noises erupted from the mirror, and cracks began to appear. Rebecca wanted to scream, but she couldn’t, for a proper lady would never do something as maddening as make a loud noise. It must be in my head, Rebecca thought. I am descending into madness. But, I must not let it show. I must fight the madness; do my makeup more grand to hide anything going wrong in my mind, and wear bigger, brighter outfits to draw attention away from any strange actions that may occur.

But that was not the issue.

One day, Rebecca came home to find her mirror shattered into a thousand pieces. She finally let it out. She screamed and yelled and wailed all day long. What have I done wrong? Who did this? Who could have such a grudge against me that they would break into my home and destroy my most prized possession?

Once her tears died down, she sat in front of her mirror, grieving it. Her hands sifted through the shards of glass, taking in their beautiful shine and reflections. Blood burst from her fingers, but she did not care nor feel any pain. It was nothing to her. But underneath all the glass, she found a single piece of paper. How strange, she thought. She opened it, reading its contents.

Dear Rebecca,

Please stop pretending.

Please come home.

Please, you are killing me.

Please, I am forced to atone for your sins.

Please, let me be free.

__

Yours sincerely,

Bex