'Sometimes, it's just hard to believe it all. Life. The world. Existing. Do any of us do more then just exist in this hell hole? Sometimes, I find it hard to even believe that any of us are alive Who has real credibility, who can actually tell us we are real? Couldn't we just be made ups? Things that have nothing better to do then cause havoc in a place we made called earth? Is humanity's thirst for death so great that we murder the ones we care about? Husbands beat their wives. Wives drown their children because they believe their going to a better place.
Who? Who can tell us this is all real. Or, who can tell us this is all fake? Who can finally explain the barrier of existence to us mortals without causing one nation to argue, leading to a war that takes thousands of lives?
Can anyone? Anything, do something of such a feat?'

I shook my head. I watched as my thin, straight obsidian hair fell across my shoulders in a demented halo, circling my pale face. Saying that I looked like an zombie was quite an understatement. Deep bags took up residence just below my bottom eyelids. My eyes looked no better then some kind of mutated-blue egg that had been dropped from a fifty foot building.
I had been asked, on more then one occasion, if everything was alright at home. Asked if I've been doing drugs. All those inquiries came from people that didn't even know me. Who are they to judge me?
But, better yet, who are they to care? I suppose my friends had become accustom to this look.
So what? I used to be beautiful. But now, the Miss blah blah blah trophies were somewhere in the garbage can out in front of my house. I'm not pretty anymore. They could be on their way to the dump, for all I care. My name? I'm not even sure I know it anymore. When I look into the mirror that stands before me....I don't know who that girl is. The one with the flaked blue eyes, thinning hair and pale skin.
She doesn't look like me. At least...I don't' think she does. The me, the Lacy Harris, that I remember had perfectly tanned skin. Not that tanning bed lotion, or spray on. I wasn't afraid to be in the sun, and that's how I got my tan. The me I knew had thick, black hair. Hair that floated around my face, much like a small sea of shiny blue. The me I knew had beautifully crystal clear baby-blue eyes. Eyes that won me first place for prettiest eyes when I was growing up-at pageants.
I had a figure that was to die for. I had flesh and meat on my bones. I wasn't so skinny that I could fit into a five year olds' shirt, but I wasn't so fat that I had to suck in my stomach to button my jeans either. My body, my weight was as close to average and perfect as anyones could be. I was happy with the way I looked. But the girl in the mirror...she was skin and bones.
But now, the me I know, the me that I hate.... I constantly close my eyes to the image of the girl that stares back at me. I can't call it staring. She's just there...looking at me like a lost child. She isn't frightened. She isn't happy. She isn't sad. She's just there. Looking. Her broken eyes are there. Always looking back at me. But, I know I can fix all that. I hate her! I think....I almost certainly know she hates me to.
"I'll get rid of you." The voice. The crackly voice. It was mine...but it was hers. I saw her lips moving in the mirror, yet, it was my mind that formed them together.
In sync. She spoke. I thought.
When I wave my thin arm I can see bones nearly protruding the flesh. It makes me sick. I'm not for sure who the girl in the mirror is...all I know is she says what I think, and mimic my every movement.
I don't know if she's suppose to be Lacy, or if she's suppose to be some kind of inner demon I'm suppose to battle
Doesn't matter.
It really doesn't. I don't care who..or..what she is. I know how to get rid of her. I know how to help myself.
I don't know how cold my skin is. I don't know how cold the room I'm sitting in is. All I know is what I picked up, what had been laying in front of me, sent shivers down my spine. The hard material was nearly freezing, but it sent my blood into a frantic, heated rush.
I held it up before my eyes. The wood on the handle was smooth and cold, almost as if it were made of stell too. My finger curled back it's safety lock. My hands, despite all my efforts, trembled. Sending shiver up my arms and across my shoulders. It seemed so heavy in my small hand. So heavy that I almost put it down.
I shook my head. I was going to get rid of the girl in the mirror. She started laughing. The sound made my stomach curl in protest. When I let me gaze lift up, she was there. Her eyes were brimming with tears and when one slipped down her cheek, I felt the tickle as it slowly fell down mine.
All at once, I noticed in her hand she held something similar. Her arm trembled as mine was. It didn't look heavy, but we were both shaking under it's force. I watched with grim fascination as she mimicked my every move. I opened my mouth and my tongue curled to the taste of steel.
All at once....I saw her finger curl around the trigger the exact moment I felt mine touch the cold curve of metal. One swift movement. That's all it was going to take. I watched the girl in the mirror. Her finger slowly, almost as if in still frame, continued to bend.
Again, with fascination, I watched. I wasn't moved by the tears in her eyes. Her face seemed to be sagging and looked irregular with the nozzle of the gun past her lips.
Even if I felt the cold steel on my tongue, in my mouth as well, it was all worth it watching this person. This thing that haunted me every time I looked into a mirror...it was worth it to watch her die.
It was time. I closed my eyes, watching hers shut as I did so. My chest rumbled and my laughter spilled out into the darkness. With one quick jerk of my thin finger....
Blood splattered onto the mirror in an hasty design as she fell forward. The gun clattered to the floor as did her bony arm. She lay there in a head of gurgling red and smoke. The girl in the mirror was no longer present. She laid, her head down,with crimson seeping down the back of her neck and over her shoulders.

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