burning lights and a raging bull
A flickering ceiling neon casts an eerie blue light across the cracked mirror. The bathroom is filled with the musty smell of damp and neglect. You come out of the shower and sway before the mirror. As the image of your hollow eyes gradually reveals itself, you stare back, defiantly. Your swaying stops when the crack cuts diagonally across your face. Somewhere, someone curses the unrelenting heat.
The reflection addresses nobody in particular. You’re the reason I constantly screw up. The eternal victim. You, it spits, its voice a brittle whisper that echoes in the silence. Its eyes look haunted, and hold a glimmer of something that you can’t place. Pity, perhaps. Its fingers clench into fists and place themselves over the sink.
Look at you. A coward. Its voice is now rising. Someone who has hidden behind a mask for so long that she can no longer…the narrow room reverberates to the sound of someone knocking on the door. Are you going to be long? We need to be at the restaurant in half an hour. I still need some time, and you go ahead, you reply slowly, without taking your eyes off the image, the crack now neatly misaligning your open lips.
The reflection remains silent, its expression now unreadable. You feel a surge of anger, and slam your fist right into its nose. The mirror splinters into a web of cracks.
Why won’t you say something? it demands. Why won’t you admit that you’re the reason I can’t cry, can’t scream, can’t feel anything at all? You hold it all in, bottle it up until there’s nothing left but a void.
The voice cracks, the reflection’s anger giving way to desperation. Tears well up in its eyes, but it blinks them away. Crying is something you have forgotten how to do, a distant memory from a time when emotions were not buried so deep.
You think you’re so strong, you whisper, your voice barely audible. But you’re not. You’re weak. You’re terrified of what might happen if you let go, if you let yourself feel. And because of you, I’m trapped. Trapped in this shell, this empty husk of a life.
The reflection’s eyes seem to soften, a flicker of understanding passing through them. For a moment, you think you’ve seen a tear forming in the corner of its eyes, but you shake your head, dismissing the illusion. You can’t hide forever. One day, you’ll have to face it. You’ll have to face me.
With that, you turn away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight of your own reflection any longer. You stumble to the window and look out at the dystopian landscape beyond—the towering skyscrapers, the dark alleys, the flickering lights of a city that has long since lost its soul: a reflection of my own inner turmoil, a place where hope has been extinguished and emotions are a luxury few can afford.
It is crowded out there.
Eva took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She knew she couldn’t go on like this forever. Sooner or later, she would have to confront the emotions she had buried so deep. But for now, all she could do was survive, one day at a time, in a world that had forgotten how to feel.
As she turned back to the mirror, she became aware of the image of a stranger watching her, its eyes filled with a silent plea. Eva took a step closer, her hand reaching out to touch the cold glass. The image did the same, their fingertips almost meeting.
I’m sorry, she whispered, her voice filled with a sorrow she could no longer deny. I’m so sorry.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a single tear slid down her cheek. And in the mirror, the stranger smirked at her.