When I look in the mirror,
I see something I don’t recognize.
Crowning horns. Crimson skin. Hollow eyes.
Something stares back.
A creature.
A demon.

This can’t possibly be my reflection... can it?

I should be petrified. Should be running.
Should be doing anything but reaching for the mirror.
But I do.

The glass is warm beneath my fingers.
Its hand mirrors mine — only the looking glass separates us.
My movements are its movements.
A perfect reflection.

I stare for too long.
Long enough to forget where I end and it begins.

Slowly fading.
Slowly merging.
Becoming one with the demon staring back.