She turned and faced the mirror,
Found her reflection staring back at her,
Eyes wide and hair wild,
The room behind her a distorted mess.
She stumbed backwards. Afraid. Confused.
What was happening to her?
The mirror smashed, shards flying everywhere,
Leaving behind a gaping hole,
The darkness leaving a cold draught,
The darkness drawing her in.
Drawing her closer.
She hesitated.
The stench that came was one of death,
Festering. Decaying. Rotting.
Did she really want to go down the route of death?
Was it her time? Was she too young?
Her thoughts spiralled out of control,
As she slid to the floor sobbing.
A beacon of light shone over her shoulder,
She turned around, cautiously,
Turning her back to the cold,
Exposing a blinding light, its source unknown.
A beacon of hope.
She reached out her hand,
Reaching out for another chance.
Her hand was a whisper away from the light,
When the cold dragged her back,
Plunging her into the darkness.
Forever.