There is a mirror on my closet door.
It stretches from top to bottom, allowing me to see the perfect figure, perfect hair, perfect outfit for a perfect day.
But the person I see in the mirror is not myself.
The girl in the mirror leers at me, taunting me, voicing my darkest fears.
She bangs her fists upon the glass, cracks forming.
Surely the mirror will shatter and allow this horror into reality....
So I close my eyes in fear.
When I open them again, I see myself, no one else.
The mirror is whole, not a crack to be seen.
I am dressed plain and simply, my hair a scruffy mess, my figure so-so.
The girl in the mirror is gone - for now.
I glance anxiously at the calender, silently counting the days. Fourteen.
Fourteen days till the girl returns.
I sigh, turning away.
In the corner of my eye, I see her, laughing.
My reflection of what is to come.