I looked into the mirror at the pretty face staring back and titled my head to the side.
My face contorted as I graced her beauty and tried to match it to myself. She didn’t look like me.
The girl who stared in the mirror was a princess in pink. She had rosy cheeks, long pale blonde hair curled into ringlets, pouty red lips.
I watched her apply her perfect make up and gloss her envious lips. I thought she was perfect. She didn’t think so. With a frustrated sigh she plugged in her curler and began to pull her hands through her hair.
“Ugh, you stupid, stupid hair act right!” She screamed dropping the curling iron onto the counter.
She pulled out her brush and began to brush the pretty curls out furiously pulling at her roots. Not the way precious hair like that should be treated.
The lights flickered on and off and I noticed my hands clenching in the same waves as the flickering lights.
She was not appreciating the life she had been gifted. Not all of us had the luxury.
I reached towards the glass and that’s when she first noticed me. She soon found out her reflection was no longer staring back.
I could feel heat absorbing through my very cold lifeless ones. With a mere thought, the portal from our two dimensions collided. The lights dimmed as I made my way out of the mirror. My bones cracked as I tried to control my dead body.
She screamed and stumbled to her bottom. She stared up at me with disgust and it made me livid. I grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at me.
Each time she tried to look away I shook her. Yeah I wasn’t like her at all. I was pale, with patches of brown hair, and cracked chapped lips. She wore a pretty nightgown and my gown was dirty and in tatters.
She was alive and I was dead!
I shook her harder and harder like she was nothing but the doll she appeared to be. Suddenly her head jerk backwards and then there was a crack from her bones.
The bathroom was finally silent. I let go of her body and watched as it crumbled beside my feet. I took my time brushing out her very pretty blonde hair.
“See, this is how you are supposed to take care of your hair. No complaining.” I chided.
Quanisha A. McGruder