The distant clatter of broken glass hushed. In front of the ruined mirror, the figure with her back to me remained motionless.
One finger twitched. She grasped the bottle as its hand-lettered tag fluttered in the humid air.
Rough hands grasped me under th(more)e arms and hoisted me, feet dangling, over to where she stood. She didn't turn around as I dropped in a tangle of bare legs and tulle behind her. She tilted her dark head and took a deep pull from the bottle.
She turned. She was me.
Til now, her form had been only a suggestion. Now she swelled and contracted, sprouted freckles and fine lines to match mine.
The bottle, drained, dropped from her fingers.
I felt Asmodeus behind me, cloven hooves scraping the soft sand.
She smiled at me, and him.
"You're so hongry. He's so hongry. Why don' you eat?"
"I'm about to." Asmodeus replied softly.
"I can't eat." I looked up at her. She wore a clean copy of my party dress.
She brow furrowed. "I thought so. It's Her, ain't it?"
"Ih don't know why Ih'm here. Ih was in quarantine..."
"I brought you here." Asmodeus said to the looking-glass girl. He smiled down at me, brutally. "Your guardian demon split you up. She was trying to help you, in a real Clive Barker-esque way. She reads, you know. There are libraries even in Hell." He shifted on his hooves, arms crossed. "I'm going to put you back together. I am Lust, and you are full of me. And Lust, baby, Lust brings down even Pride. Even old Lucifer." He turned to my reflection. "Show her all her sins."
My mirror image's breastbone popped open on tiny hinges. Her ribs opened like armoire doors. Inside, a diorama.
inside of a white room I watched the little bug crawl. she moved from one corner to the other. I have been sick for a week and trembling. My eye was removed. I can thumb the hollow. I will survive, the doctor said, and would not look at me.(more) There is nothing like the countryside, there is nothing like the fresh brown hills and every element of nature growing and dying, there is nothing like running until you cannot move, there is nothing like the way an apple in the Hudson Valley tastes in October, there is nothing like your first kiss outside of your bedroom window in the middle of the night in the summer time at 16, there is nothing like dying in a hospital and watching your friends see you as dead, there is nothing like blowing by a boy you like so secretly it twists you, there is nothing like chalk accidentally salty on your tongue, there is nothing like the wind picking up against your window, there is nothing like being rejected by someone who smiled at you, there is nothing like seeing your elders' hair change from dark to grey, there is nothing like any of these things. I cry daily, what now? Out of one eye? It is funny, after all. I'm giving it up, now, trying to see. (less)