The Reflection’s Fault
by Steppen Sawicki
I was brushing my hair in the bathroom, watching my reflection in the mirror. I don’t know when it started, but the eyes of my reflection had unfocused from my own, had begun to look at a point over my shoulder. At something over my shoulder. Then my reflection’s mouth slowly, slowly opened in a silent scream. In shock, I backed away from the mirror and bumped into something and I spun around with such force my arm must have hit the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
I swear, that’s how I got these cuts on my arms.