The MirrorMature

I stepped into the crowded hallway, and while being pushed and shoulder-slammed, someone touched my arm. I had half a mind to wheel around and hit whoever it was, but then I saw a pair of hazel eyes blinking at me.

Christian grinned and swept the dark hair out of his eyes. His touch was warm against my skin as he pulled me away from the people and waited for them to pass before turning to me. His hand fluttered against my cheek slowly.

“You looked like you were going to get swallowed up. You also looked a little shaken. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. I stepped away from him, trying to not make it awkward. I watched him watching me and I knew what was next.

He slipped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer, his head slightly bent. When his lips grazed mine, I felt something coil at the pit of my stomach. I knew the feeling all too well, and I was already regretting what I was going to say.

“I can’t,” I whispered against his mouth. “Please. We’ve tried this before, remember? It didn’t work.”

“I was drunk then,” Christian said, frowning. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. “But I really like you, Kendall.”

I hated this. I hated who I’d become because of these dreams. I had to protect myself, and that meant not letting people in, even if I liked them. And I liked Christian. I liked him more than I’d ever liked another boy.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking into his eyes. “I have to get to my next class now. I’m late.”

I walked away from him, knowing that he would skip again. He always skipped when something upset or pissed him off. I didn’t blame him. I was a bad person. Before I knew what I was doing, I was standing in the bathroom, staring into the mirror.

My reflection stared back at me, my yellow wolf-like eyes looking tired. I leaned closer toward the glass before something broke my concentration. There was someone standing beside me, her head turned away so I couldn’t see her face.

“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice feigning concern.

Black tendrils cascaded down her back before she twisted to look at me; her right cheek was bashed in, her one blue eye had blood in it, and her mouth was cut up. But she still managed a horrifying, lopsided smile.

She lifted a perfectly manicured finger to herself and said, “You did this, Kendall. Don’t you remember? This isn’t a dream. You’re not looking at a hallucination. I’m real.”

She reached a hand out and slapped me across the face. My head snapped to the side and I let out a small cry. Glaring, I turned my head, but she was gone. Everything was quiet, and as I looked into the mirror again, I gasped.

There was a soft but noticeable discoloration on my skin.

I screamed, my fist colliding with the glass, shattering it. Some shards fell into the sink, while others managed to slice my hand and wrist. I gritted my teeth and ran to get paper towels, holding them to the wound.

As I leaned my head against one of the bathroom stalls, I saw someone out of the corner of my eye. They were standing in the entrance, staring at me.

The End

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