All the Grief and Despair
The murderer stood in the bathroom, looking into the mirror wondering how it got so out of hand. She cupped a handful of warm water and splashed it onto her face. She did it again, but she couldn't feel the warmth from the water. There was nothing that could warm her coldness. There was nothing at all that could make her feel any better. She started wiping her face dry with a hand towel and the ugliness of being a killer stayed there in the reflection. It was a person she never knew until the killing started.
“Who are you?” she whispered. “Who the hell are you?”
She stood almost frozen looking at her reflection. She was trying to understand the reasons behind the murders. She was hoping to see a glimpse of insanity as her image in the mirror looked back. It was another person, and she was so sure of it. There was nothing logical about killing, but the sensation sent her into a feel good rush.
Her reflection started laughing uncontrollably that it made her step back a foot. She knew it wasn't real, but nonetheless the proof was right there. It could have been just a simple hallucination, as she closed her eyes. She cupped her ears with the palms of her hands to drown out the laughter. She squeezed her eyes tight, but the laughter just roared as clear as it possibly could.
The laughing brought a freezing chill that stayed in her bones. She wanted to move away from the mirror, but she could not. It had a grip on her that she couldn't explain.
Suddenly there was nothing but silence. It was a dead silence that filled the bathroom. She removed her hands from her ears and she slowly opened her eyes.
The image in the mirror was foggy, and then it just vanished. She stood in front of the mirror but there was no reflection. Her mouth opened as she tried to scream but nothing came out. There was no scream and no reflection. There was only dead silence.
Suddenly there was a terrible crash that shook the bathroom. The silence was gone and the her reflection came back. She hadn't realized it, but she shattered the mirror with her hands. glass and blood filled the basin.
She grabbed the hand towel and started wiping the blood. She couldn't understand what brought on the hallucination, but it had to do something with all the grief and despair her conscious endured, That was the only explanation she had so she went with it.
She was a serial killer and to be in the presence of such hatred seemed to have dislodged all logic and sanity. She was good at killing and that's exactly what she wanted to do. Even though her sanity couldn't understand it, she felt good when it was done.
© 2018 Frank Atanacio