Nobody cared about me. I was simply an image that lurked in the background. I was pulled out of school, for my family had planned to move to another state. Maybe Texas or Arizona.
So I stood there in my small cramped room. Assorted cardboard boxes surrounded me. Even the usually sky blue walls were replaced with a light electric green shade. I had seen the new owners of my former home. They were total pains.
And then there was the antique mirror. Mother had been given it by the new homeowners. Probably as something to make sure we would quickly be ousted from the house. I didn't really even know if it was truly an antique. It sat forlorn in the corner of my room for now.
Every night recently I heard a voice calling out to me. It started from afar but had become rapidly closer. I could never make out what it said. The voice sounded so...distorted. And for the first time ever during the day, I heard it.
"Broken shards," came the whisper, close to a low feral snarl. "Shards of your pain."
It came from the left corner of my room. Standing there in front of the mirror was a figure. The figure was that of a man. His face was completely blank. The man's eyes were closed. He had short blonde hair. What appeared to be a notebook was clasped in his hand. He wore a jacket and dark jeans.
"Who are you?" I inquired in a trembling voice.
The man did not even acknowledge my question. He instead hissed, "Are you Dariana?" I merely nodded, so full of fear and surprise at seeing this stranger. "Then you are the one."
His eyes snapped open to reveal transparent eyeballs. I stepped backwards into one of the cardboard boxes. My body fell to the carpeted floor. A feeling of immense pain and the cold chill of ice entered me. Yet when I opened my mouth, no scream escaped. Darkness came over me.
Next thing I knew, I could see again. But I wasn't on the ground anymore. I put my hands out to find an invisible barrier. I looked over my shoulder to see an absolute of my room from my point of view. How... How could I be inside the mirror?
I turned back to gaze out from the ornate mirror. And there was my body laying there. It was scratched up and my neck was at an awkward angle. Why does everything unfortunate happen to me? My soul was stuck in this mirror. What did I deserve for it?
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