I can see them in the mirrors. They hover behind me.
Their faces are smeared with blood, they weep blood with their empty holes for eyes.
They tear their hair out, pulling out their scalp and leaving tracks of it on the floor.

I can’t sleep, I see them.
They beckon me to them as they drip blood from their fingers. Their nails looking more like claws. I stand and watch them from afar.
They approach at a walk, then begin to run. Before they reach me they dissolve to ash. Their remains speck in my corneas and I wake up, eyes burning.

I only reject food; it is repulsive. I hunger for escape.

And then there’s my reflection.
Exhausted, starving, and dead.
The girls are obediently behind me.
I look at my hands; unkept.
I touch my face, and try to see the woman I was. No luck, I am not her.
I cry and begin to dig my face.
I close my eyes and scrape away.
I feel the blood pool in my nails and when my eyelids open, I molest my open wounds.
I see nothing. I feel no pain.
But I weep blood.
I am you now.

At last.