The Reflection Part II

[This is in the “Just why?” Category for gore. It is a bit long but if you liked the The Reflection, you will probably like the conclusion. I wasn’t going to but Automatic Ema talked me into it. In all fairness, she didn’t have to try real hard! I felt there was more to the story left to be told, and she told me it was alright to do so. Thanks Ema! Before you go on, please read The Reflection first. ]

“Hello? Delia? Are you here?” Johnathon asked the air in the house. “Of course she’s here, what are you thinking?” He asked himself.

Johnathan took his camel hair over coat off and hung it on the hook beside the door. Then he took off his brown beanie hat and stuffed it in the pocket of his coat and tried to shake off the cold. It was windy and the air had a chill in it that was a little colder than the autumn air should be. He chalked it up to a cold front weather system. It wasn’t predicted on his phone app, but then again, it wasn’t like watching the weather channel.

He wore a brown with silver striped suit to match his, now static infused, brown hair and eyes. Delia never understood his fascination with the color brown, but everyone had their favorite color, didn’t they? At thirty, he was younger than her by a year, and when her parents were killed in a car wreck over a decade ago, she and Marcus had moved in and helped keep him on his feet.

The house was warm, bordering on hot. Johnathan’s sister didn’t like being cold, so she almost always had the thermostat set to twenty four degrees Celsius. Too warm for Johnathan’s liking. At least when Marcus was around it was rarely set higher than twenty one, and even then it was to warm the house quicker after leaving the furnace off when they were away. However, then he wasn’t the one paying the heating bill.

He was paying all of Delia’s utilities now. She was beginning to run low on Marcus’ insurance money. At least he had the decency to wait the two years for his suicide clause on his policy before offing himself. This was a thought that never would have been spoken aloud, but it was heard none the less.

“I can hear his thoughts. He’s sick and tired of being sick and tired. You know what he’s sick and tired of Delia?”

Delia sat in front of the vanity table in her bedroom. It was her Mother’s. One of the only things she actually kept. She had loved it since she was a little girl. The mirror had soft glow light bulbs above the mirror, that made her feel like a movie star when she would come in to get her hair brushed after her baths. It was the only time she was allowed to sit in front of it, and the ecstasy of having her hair brushed by her mother, and the warming effects of the lights on her face as she tilted her hair back and closed her eyes, were her favorite memories.

The lights had quit working quite a few years ago, and Delia was glad. She didn’t like the person she saw when she looked into the mirror now. The ornately decorated frame of the mirror matched the one in the dining room with its Victorian floral carvings, and pewter color paint. The image in the mirror, though, did not match the image of the person looking into it. I still don’t know what you want from me? She asked the image in a thought.

Delia had learned there was no need for speech when conversing with her reflection. It knew her thoughts, and her thoughts fueled its “altering.” The image changed daily; hourly. Now it was a mess of a face that didn’t resemble anything that she remembered when she use to look upon herself in benign mirrors past.

Now it was grotesque, and monsterish. Eyes of blood that had darkened to nearly black. Red syrupy tears lined her lids like some badly applied eyeliner and smeared underneath as if cried tears had smudged its mascara and ran crimson down its cheeks. Cheeks that were lightning cracked black only earlier today, now showed through red and fiberously. Delia couldn’t help imagining what the face would look like once the facade finally fell away.

Its hair was wild, dry, and damaged frizz and curls of auburn. It was dirty, clumpy, and looked sticky. The lips on the thing were chapped and cracked and it hurt her just looking at the demon, especially when she grinned and stretched those wretched lips too wide as they pulled back from yellowish, although insanely straight and healthy, teeth. They were her teeth. She knew this because she had spent three years in braces and obsessed over them when they were finally removed. It was the only indication that the image in the mirror had anything to do with her. The monster had somehow commandeered her reflection.

“Stop it! I don’t want to know what he thinks. I have my own problems!”

“What who thinks?” Johnathan asked, finding her where she sat in their mother’s chair.

Delia turned to look at him. She looked as if she might cry, but he knew she wouldn’t. It didn’t stop him from getting emotional himself. He went to her and hugged her. She put his arms around him and embraced him, but she kept staring at the image. It didn’t change back, but Johnathan never even looked at it. He didn’t see it, and she wanted to tell him. Look! Look what I have become! She couldn’t give voice to the thought.

“Look at him! He’s pathetic! You know, he’s only helping you as payback for what you did for him. He is coming to the end, though, Delia. He is thinking about it right now. Get ready. He’s about to start an argument with you just so he can blame you for causing him to walk out of here and never come back. Just wait. I’m right, you’ll see.”

“Stop it, I HATE YOU!!!” She released her brother and threw her mother’s antique perfume sprayer at the glass.

It didn’t have the desired effect, but rather, bounced off the glass and landed on the floor. Johnathan, startled, jerked backward.

“What the hell, Delia?! What did I do now?”

“Nothing … nothing. I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to … it.” She lifted her hand daintily and raised a finger toward the mirror.

“He can’t see me. Or hear me. Not unless I want him to. Unless you want me to show him.”

“I don’t see anything. You mean you? You hate yourself, Delia?”

“See I told you.” The reflection taunted and grinned that sickening smile.

Delia looked at her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. I’m going crazy. He’ll have me locked up for sure. Just say whatever you have to make him chill out.

“I’m sorry, Johnny. I’m having a really bad day. Don’t mind me.”

“I heard. Got a call from Margaret.”

“I guess you would have. I know you sent her to keep an eye on me. I knew it all along, and was fine with it, but she started up her shit.” Delia looked up at him. “I don’t need some old widow telling me how to deal, Johnathan. I don’t want that. I will deal in my own time. She is welcome for tea, but she needs to keep her big ass nose out my personal life.”

“Tell him to go check on her. Tell him. Tell him. He will if you tell him.” The reflection said. It wanted to show off. It wanted to feed off the excitement.


“Fine, I’ll tell him.”

“You should go check on her and tell her I’m sorry.” Delia told Johnathan.

As soon as she said it, her face became pinched and she looked disturbed. She tried to shut her out, but it was no good.

“Fine, I’ll go see her after I leave here. We need to talk.”

“NO! You should go now. Bring her back here and we can all have a nice chat. Things are going to be different from now on. I think … I think I have reached the end of my grief. I want to get back to living my life.”

Now Delia did cry. She sobbed into her hands, but not because she was ready for anything, but for the fact that she had not said a single word of what her brother had just heard. She did not know it was even possible for the disgusting creature in the mirror to do that, but she was learning very quickly exactly what the thing was capable of.

“Really?!” Johnathan asked. He smiled with real happiness. “Alright. I’ll go get her. I’m sure she’ll be over the moon! I’ll be right back.”

Johnathan rushed out of the room, and went to the front door. He didn’t bother putting on his things, as he knew he was only going next door.

“He’s going to think you did it. And he’s right, you know?”

“What are you talking about?! YOU are the one who did anything!”

“Oh no. You can’t blame me. I only did what I do, but what I do is follow orders. You ordered me to do it, therefore you did it!”

“Yea? Well if you follow orders, then get out and leave me be. You’ve done enough!” Delia shouted at the mirror.

The reflection laughed. It was more of a cackle, but it settled quickly.

“I’ll rephrase that. I only follow orders I want to follow. You brought me here and it is up to you to get rid of me, but since you don’t know the how or why by which I’ve come, you won’t know the way or reason I’ll leave. Better get used to me, Delia. You’re stuck with me. Oh you better pray he doesn’t have you locked up for this. I can take care of that, you know? I can make it so you and I can remain here, free from all your spies. Just say the word.” The reflection’s raspy hiss of a voice was insanity in Delia’s ears.

She put her hands to the side of her head and rocked herself, her hair waving back and forth as she did. The reflection went silent. It knew Delia would still hear it in her mind, but she didn’t want her to go away again. Not yet. Things were about heat up.


Johnathan knocked on Mrs. Carter’s door. There was a semi-see through linen curtain on the door’s window, but all he could make out was the television and what looked like the back of her head slumped over. He thought maybe she had fallen asleep in her chair while crocheting. It wouldn’t be the first time. He turned the knob and the door clicked and opened.

“You really should lock this door, Margaret. Times aren’t like they used to be.” He stepped inside and approached her from behind.

“Margaret? Are you alr…?”

His hand went to his mouth as he gasped. He walked around the side of her chair. There was blood everywhere. On the blanket she had been working on, draped across her lap, on the floor in front of her, and splashed on the television that was running the evening news. Anchor woman Jill Renley was reading a report from beneath red streaks that looked like a progressive painter dipped a brush into a bucket and whipped it at the screen yelling, “Feel the strokes!”

He looked at her face and lost it. His sushi from lunch came back to the world in full force, partially digested and fully projectile. Johnathan tried to turn away from the ghastly scene but the action caused the day’s earlier meal to spread and cover more of the canvas that was Mrs. Carter’s living room floor. “Feel the strokes!”

After gaining control of his stomach spasms, he looked again. This time with purpose. He saw the crochet needle balled up in a fist and realized whoever did this to his lifelong neighbor, was one disturbed individual. He was instantly thankful the killer hadn’t visited his family home next door, but then a small part of him shined and he had to keep himself from giving a mental voice to the feeling. The feeling that wished the killer had visited his family home instead.

Driving the feeling back down, he ran to the phone and picked it up. He dialed emergency and waited for the ring. This gave him a split second to think and the thought that arose first was not good. It was a thought that had been prophesied only moments earlier. John whispered to himself.

“Delia, what did you do?”

No, she couldn’t have done this. She isn’t capable … is she? “Hello, my neighbor has been murdered in her home. Yes. I just found her. Please come quick, there’s blood everywhere! Yes …yes I’ll stay on the line.”


“I was right. He thinks you did it. Don’t worry he’s not going to tell them that. He wants to talk to you first, but you are going to confirm what he already knows. And then he will tell them. Yes he will. Unless … You better think quick, Delia, he’s on his way back now.”

“You don’t dare touch my brother! Don’t you even think it!”

“Suit yourself. I’ll be here if you need me. And you will. Need me.”


“You know, I just realized. I have to go check on my sister. I won’t. It’s right next door, besides, I can’t look at this any longer. I’ve already been sick once. I will. Thank you.”

Johnathan gave the dispatcher his sister’s address and hung up the phone. He looked back at the ugly scene once more and walked out of the house, and was hit in the face with a blast of cold wind. It almost felt good given the circumstances, but there was still something biting about that chill. He sprinted back to the house and went inside.

Delia was sitting on the couch in front of the television. It was an LCD big screen television, and she hadn’t known that her reflection wasn’t bound only to mirrors, when it looked at her and grinned that hellish grin and winked. She would have moved but figured the damn thing would find her wherever she went. She was right, but it didn’t matter, the reflection had no real need of the mirror for anything other than communication.  She heard Johnathan come up on the porch and reach the door.

He burst in the house and looked around and found Delia sitting on her couch crying. He took one look at her face and jumped to the wrong conclusion, but he was not about to let her know it. When the police arrived, they would knock on the door, and he would let them in and tell them what he suspected. They would either arrest her and take her to jail, or throw her in the psych ward at the Webster Institution for the advancement of Mental Health. It was the long winded way of saying Webster Loony Bin, and chances are, Delia would be sleeping there tonight.

Johnathan struggled to figure out what to say to her. He wasn’t very good with stressful situations. It was why … it was why I had run.

“Oh this is rich! Look it him. You know he called the cops right? Now he is looking at you like this is the last time he’ll have to deal with you in this sorry state. Just tell me what you want. I’ll be more than glad to watch this one bleed. You can watch too. I’ll … we’ll … make it slow. Savor it. You’ll see?”

Delia looked at the reflection in the screen of her television with disgust. The image was enjoying this far too much. Delia needed to say something to break the tension.

“Is Mrs. Carter alright.”

“Delia. Mrs… Margaret is … she’s … dead. Murdered, I think. You didn’t … did you?”

“Oh my God, NO! How could you think that? You’re my brother.”

“No no, of course not. I don’t know. She told me you screamed at her…” He rushed to her and sat down on the floor in front of her. “…said you were angry with her and kicked her out … and then … just now. I saw …it was horrible, Delia. I don’t understand who … what … could have done something like that to such a nice old lady. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse you.”

But he did accuse her. In his mind he had already charged, tried, and convicted her. All he needed now was to wait for the cavalry. What’s taking them so long?! If he could just sit with her long enough, and not upset her, it would all be over soon.

“You have something on your jacket. Is that puke? It must be, you stink really bad. Can you please take it off.”  Delia said.

She wasn’t using it as an excuse, he was rank with sweat and the smell of barf, and it was causing her own olfactories to respond. Johnathan stood up and stripped his suit jacket off careful not to get any on his bare skin. Delia stood up and Johnathan went to hand it to her.

“Ew … no. You know where the laundry is; and the bathroom. Go clean yourself up, I’m not going anywhere. Did you call the police?” She asked, knowing that he did.

“Uh …” Johnathan worried about how to answer. “Yea … I had to, you didn’t see her. (or maybe you did) They’re on their way. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright, I’m going to change. I don’t want to talk to the police in my pajamas.”


Johnathan took his jacket to the laundry, before heading to the bathroom. Delia went into her room to change out of her satin maroon paisley pajama bottoms and top. She rarely had a reason to dress in anything else these days, except of course, when Mrs. Carter came over. That wasn’t going to be happening anymore.  She went and opened the the door to her wardrobe. There was a full length mirror inside, and before she had a chance to look into it, she began stripping down to her bra and underwear. She wore Marcus’ favorite pair of black lacy thong panties, and the matching see through bra.

She had lost a bit of weight in the last year but still had comely figure. She had always had a body that could snap Marcus out of any fugue he was in and even though she didn’t have the magazine perfect body from those days, if she were to strap on her bikini and head out to the beach right now, she would not get looks of disapproval.

“What will you wear, Delia? Something conservative? Perhaps something enticing to distract the police from their questions?”

“What’s it to you? Either way, I’m going to deal with you, one way or another.”

The reflection cackled in the mirror. Now Delia had a full view and it was unnerving to say the least. The image bore her shape, but its skin had the same lightning cracked porcelain white skin covering its entire body. As she looked at it, the thing in the mirror posed with one leg bent and the knee of its right leg crossed over and rubbed her other knee. Is it trying to look sexy? She shivered.

“Don’t I, though?” It asked. “Anyway, they aren’t coming. The police. Well, they are, but not here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, they would have been here by now. The station is only three blocks away. Are you that detached? They would have been here, before he even hung up the phone. I gave them the wrong address. Your welcome. That one was a freebie.” The reflection laughed again.

Delia hated the sound, but she had bigger things to worry about.

“You … how?”

“What do you think this is, Delia? This isn’t my first rodeo, you know. And something else I think you should know, when they don’t show up, he’s going to call again. I won’t be able to stop him next time. Next time, it will be up to you. I’ve been patient thus far, but my patience is wearing thin.”

“What do you want?!” Delia cried.

“YOU!” The reflection howled, grasping the edges of the mirror and leaning impossibly through the glass to get Delia’s full attention.

It worked. Delia stared at her, stunned.

“I always get what I want, Delia. I’ve been doing this for a long … long … time, but it has never been about just me. I have friends. Yes. Friends like you. I … was a friend like you, once. And I’ll tell you something else … I help my friends and they help me. I am going to help you one last time, and from there you will have to do the rest yourself. Oh, I will do the heavy lifting, but you are going to give me the order.”

“I will not order you to harm my brother.”

“Oh no? You sweet and innocent, spying brother? Here it is. My last freebie. Do what you will, but if you anger me, Delia, we will no longer be friends. I implore you now. Don’t let that be the way this ends. As for my last freebie, it comes as a bit of truth. I know things, see? I pick them out of unguarded heads, like yours. Like his. Like that old witch next door. I know you saw it, you thought I put it their, but I didn’t. You’re like me, but we’ll talk about that later. Your brother killed … your … mother … and … your … father.” It added pause for effect.

“No … you … you’re …”

“Lying? Have I lied to you yet? Think about it. I’ve been with you for a year. Showing you things, watching you. “Altering” you. Working on you. And today I have been speaking with you. Have I once lied to you? Has anything I said been anything less than what you knew to be the truth even as soon as the words came out of my mouth?”

Delia thought about it then. No, so far, everything she said had been the truth. She even eerily made predictions. Delia didn’t realize that she was now thinking of the thing in the mirror as a she, not an it. She was getting what she wanted, and that was for Delia to admit, what she knew all along. She thought back to the night her parents had been killed.

It was icy out. Sleet and black ice covered the roads, and Johnathan had been drinking and driving too fast. He had been seventeen years old, not old enough to drink. He saw the red light too late on his way home from a Christmas party he had attended. He slid through the intersection smashing into his parents vehicle broadside, causing it to flip multiple times, and killing them both.

Having the good sense at least, to have his seat belt buckled. Johnathan crawled out of the window, that had been down, as he had been trying to allow the cold winter air to sober him up. It hadn’t worked, but smashing his folks into the afterlife had done the trick. He saw the car lying upside down, and didn’t recognize it. Fearing that he would be thrown in prison for causing such an accident from driving drunk, he started walking back to the party. When he got close to where the party was, he pulled his mobile phone out and called the cops and reported his car stolen.

Then he called his sister, who came and picked him up near the party. He was distraught and kept going on about how his car had been stolen while he was inside drinking. He called her, instead of his parents because he didn’t want to get in trouble for being drunk. While she listened to the story, she was stopped by police detouring vehicles around an accident. Being sober, she recognized the car immediately and got out to see if her parents, who had been out to a party of their own, were alright.

Johnathan stayed in the car, something Delia had thought was strange, but the devastation of the discovery would push the thought onto the unimportant pile in the back of her mind. A pile that she was picking up pieces from now. The story was, Johnathan’s car had been stolen, and in an unfortunate coincidence, slammed into his parents.

The police questioned him, but it was obvious he was inebriated and any inconsistencies in his story were contributed to that fact. Both his parents Toyota Corolla and his Chrysler Aries, had been totaled, and were impounded. Both scrapped, but not until after an investigation had been conducted. No evidence of who may have taken Johnathan’s car had been found, but that didn’t mean whoever it was didn’t wear gloves. After all, it had been winter. It still was strange, but in her grief, Delia put that one on the unimportant pile as well.

She would add one last thing to that pile. Something she would pick up again someday, when some image in a mirror would tell her to “Think about it.” At the funeral, Johnathan told her he was sorry. “I am so sorry, Delia. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t gone to that party. If I hadn’t drank. If I hadn’t let my car get stolen.”

She forgave him. It was a no-brainer, but something tickled her nerves. Something she added to the pile. “If I hadn’t drank?” What did that have to do with anything? She looked at the image and she gazed back at her with understanding.

“Ahhh… you now know the truth. You gave up everything to keep taking care of the one who killed your parents, and didn’t even have the decency to come clean. Didn’t have even the slightest bit of care about your feelings, as he let you drop out of school and work full time while he and Marcus got degrees from university, and you? Why you just stayed a pretty little wall-flower, didn’t you? And a bossy one to boot? But it wasn’t you that did Marcus in. It was Johnathan. Oh yes. You can hang that one on him, too. Marcus knew, you see? Oh yes, he did. Marcus was always battling his own demons, but it was Johnathan’s demons that pushed him over the edge. Johnathan confided in his friend, and used him as a sounding board to deal with his guilt, but who was going to be Marcus’ sounding board?”

“I would have.” Delia said. She was crying.

“And how would you do that. Johnathan made him promise he would never tell, and so he took it to his grave. So … now you know. What are you going to do about it?”

“Do it. Take care of everything.”

“As you wish.”

The image faded to black and then disappeared. However, this time when Delia looked in the mirror. She saw herself again. She reached up and touched her face and felt its warmth. God I look like hell, but it’s good to be back!

She got to her feet and began dressing. She took off her bra and took a sheer black negligee from a hanger and slipped it into it. It tied in the front at the neck and hung open the rest of the way. It went to her waist. It was the matching piece that went with the bra and panties that Marcus loved to take off of her. He would never take it off of her ever again, and it was time she came to terms with that.

She walked out of her room and met Johnathan on his way out of the bathroom, into the dining room. He was looking down at his shirt, trying to wipe it with a wet rag.

“Jeez, I wonder how long its going to take them … what are you wearing?” Johnathan asked, looking up at his sister.

“What? Don’t you think this is appropriate?” Delia said and slinked closer to him.

“What are you doing? The police are going to be here. You should get dressed.” He was trembling and his voice was stuttering.

Johnathan didn’t consider himself a pervert, but he couldn’t stop staring at his sister’s breasts. He always knew she had a killer body, but he had never seen her quite like this. The closest he had come, was seeing her in a bikini at the beach, when Marcus was alive. He didn’t know how to feel about seeing her like this now.

“Oh, little brother, you know how lonely I’ve been this past year. You don’t have a girlfriend to go home to. Why don’t you stay with me tonight?”

He backed up until he bumped into the table.

“Delia, this isn’t right. The police are coming. How would it look?”

“The police aren’t coming, Johnny.”

“They’re not?”

“Nope. It’s just going to be us. You and me and …”

“Delia? Why aren’t the police coming? They should be here by now? You’re scaring me.”

“They went … somewhere else. Probably ticked to get an anonymous prank call they can’t trace, but then again, cops are stupid. You know something about that don’t you, Johnny?” She crept closer to him and ripped his shirt open.

Buttons went all over the floor, and Delia giggled. She put her hand on his chest and it was ice cold causing him to jump.

“Ha, your … cold …”

She smiled at him too wide, showing her teeth. Her tongue slipped out and she used it to wet her lips. She moved her hand down his belly, undid his belt and pants button and slipped her hand into his boxer shorts. She found him ready, and the coldness of her hand was pleasant against the heat.

“Oh my God, Delia what … are you doing? I don’t know what you mean… please …”


“Don’t stop.”

She didn’t. Not yet. She stroked him slowly, he closed his eyes and turned his head upward.

“Oh, Johnny. Had I known … oh, the fun we could’ve been having already. I kinda knew, though. Something about you. You don’t quite view family the way others do, do you?”

He wasn’t really hearing now. He was concentrating on the delicious feeling of her hand on him, as she kept stroking softly, but slowly. Purposefully trying not to turn him on too much, but just enough to keep him off guard.

“Uh huh.” he answered.

“I mean, it takes a certain kind of person to kill their parents and lie about it.”

He heard her, but didn’t register what she said. However, an alarm went off somewhere in his head. He opened his eyes and looked at her. Her eyes were dark. Red, but almost black. She kept going, but she knew he was seeing her, and he knew she saw him. She squeezed him harder and it woke him up.

“Ow, not so hard, Delia. Ow that hurts. STOP!”

He pulled away, but she used her nails to scratch him as he yanked. He screamed, and when he tried to back away, she flicked her hand at him and he was picked up and thrown into the mirror behind the table, that shattered and rained down on him as he slid down the wall.

He was hurt, but still able to move. He tried to get up to get away, but she used some wicked power to lift him. It was telekinesis. She held him in the air, and stood in front of him.

I could have dealt with the parents thing, but you lied to me, Johnny. You lied to me, and you told Marcus everything. You knew, how fucked up he was, but you didn’t care. You had to get it all off your chest, didn’t you? Off your chest, and on his back? Isn’t that right?”

“No … it’s not true! I … don’t know …what … yooooaarraahhhh”

She used her newfound power to rip the bottom of his jaw off, and send it flying across the room. Blood poured from the torn ligaments, and the skin had been ripped from the front of his neck down to the middle of his chest, exposing muscle and bone.

“I’m done talking about it, Johnathan. You took … everything away from me. Now I’m going to take everything from you. Piece…”

She flicked a finger and his legs started pulling downward, his pants ripped, and his legs were torn from his pelvis and landed on the floor beneath him, blood oozing from the stumps creating a mess on the floor.

“By …”

Johnathan’s right arm flung to the side and pulled as she flicked her finger again. this time it was his shirt that tore as his arm came flying away from his body and hit the wall landing with a crash onto her tea set that was back in its rightful place on top of the tea cabinet.


His other arm flew off to the opposite side and crashed into the china cabinet. Breaking the glass in both doors and shattering the plates and bowls. Delia walked up to him then, and had one last thing to say while he was dying there in the air, bleeding out from from five massive wounds where his limbs had been. She brought him down to eye level, and though he would not be able to respond to anything she said, she wanted him to know just how badly he had hurt her, by hurting him the same way.

“Now for the last part. Of everything you have taken from me, it was this that hurt the most.”

Delia plunged her fist into his chest and gripped his heart in her fingers and snatched it out of his chest, like punching into a pinata and pulling out a fistful of lollies. She looked at it in wonder before asking,

“Strange, how can such a small thing like this, be the cause of so much anguish and misery.”

Johnathan only had seconds to understand what had just happened to him, but as his life passed before his eyes, he understood it all. Delia let go of him and crashed to the floor. She lowered her hand holding his heart and let it slip from her bloody fingers, to roll on the floor leaving a puddles of life sustaining red liquid on the edge of the Persian rug.

She walked to her bedroom then, and sat in front of the vanity. The lights that had not worked for so long, suddenly flickered and came on, lighting up the dark room and casting a glow upon her face. She picked up her mother’s hair brush with her bloody hand and began brush her hair.

“What now?” She asked, while she brushed.

Her reflection didn’t change, but it answered her anyway.

“Now you go. You leave here, and you walk. You walk and you listen. When you hear a voice that calls to you and it begs for help, it will be the voice of one of us. Go to them, help them. I, and others like us, will always be available to aide you, after all, what are friends for?”








One thought on “The Reflection Part II

  1. Thats a great conclusion. Really enjoyed reading!!

    I hate to be a pain but I’ve been nominated to do this three day quote challenge and I’ve got to nominate three new bloggers for each day. I don’t know if this is something you’ve done before but I really like your blog and It would be interesting to see what quotes you like or inspire you. So, I’d like to nominate you to take part. You can get the rules from my challenge here:

    Liked by 1 person

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