Mirror

I unlocked the bottom lock on my front door and slam through it, I stomp in and stumble over my family’s shoes and fall face first onto the floor. Snow fell from my hair and my coat, I’m so repulsive not even snows wants to stay with me. I lay there in front of the open door, sobbing heavily into the ground. I cursed and I questioned, turning the brown carpet a darker and warmer stain from my tears.

“Why me? What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this? I fucking hate this shitty planet. I hate my shitty self.” I cry vibrating the white, blank walls of my home, “Fuck!” I run my knuckles straight into the ground, feeling the…. Glorious sting and ache; so I did it again, and again, and again. I felt my right hand, middle finger break or spring, I don’t care, all I know is that the pain was worse and I loved it!

I began bashing the side of my head against the carpet, harder and harder every time, hoping soon I will either be unconscious or brain damaged. As I continued, lifting my head and heavily bringing it down with a thud, I felt a zit burst on my forehead, that makes me stop and touch it, puss and blood raced down the side of my head, only from the zit though.

“Can’t even knock my own damn self out, pathetic.” I whisper only to be answered by the February winter winds whistling over my house.

I got up steadily and made my way to my bathroom, entered and closed the door, I put down the lid and sat myself upon it; I looked up and focused on a flower that had multiple, small brown droplets dripping from its two dimensional, white pedals, we never bothered to clean that up or even guess what that was. 

I raised up, still hearing my heart pound against my chest and my brain scrunch with near insanity.

“You greasy headed in-bred mother fucker, kill your self, nobody on this fucking planet cares about you!” I shout at my reflection in the badly fingerprinted mirror. I looked myself in my wet, red eyes and watched as the blood raced down the side of my head and around each field of red and white headed blemish. 

I put the back of my hand up to the puss and blood coated wound and felt its contents layer on to my skin. I observed myself again.

“have you ever had a girlfriend? I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t.” they’d say, 
“Haha, look Ned he pissed himself!” their minions would say,
“No you pricks kicked me in the ass, as I was taking a piss.” I’d reply
“Sure Higgins, sure.” they’d laugh again, I would reply with a fist to the asshole’s temple and he’d go down, then his dumb fucks would jump on me, punch me in the balls a couple of times, then move to my gut and finally to my face and when I wanted to take a breath they dip my head in an unlashed stall toilet, forcing me to drink the urine and shit and used toilet paper.

I would walk around school for the rest of the day, with a head and breath smelling like feces.

Valentine’s day was tomorrow, and God do I want to shoot each one of those ignorant couples without a care in the world.

“Hi Clary.” I’d say
“Uh- hey Higgins.” she’d say
“I was wondering, since you have been the nicest person to me, would you go to prom with me? I mean just as friends, I don’t want anything more I promise.” I’d say again and she would giggle and look to her girlfriends around her,
“With you Higgins? I’m sorry, but I’d rather eat my own barf then to go with you, look don’t talk to me, you broke that chance long ago with that horrible body odor of yours!” she’d giggle and wander off with her friends.

I came back into this sickening reality and still felt my popped blemish, pulsate with anger and pain. I let out a cry and punch my reflection square in the nose, shattering the mirror and slicing open three of my four right hand knuckles. The blood dripped from my hand, but I didn’t squint, I laughed……. ‘that sting, it feels so good!’ I thought, out of good measure I bashed my head a single time against the wall, the spot went numb from the pulsating pain and I felt it grow just above my temple. I was light headed after that one and I stumbled over the sink.

I gathered myself and looked down at the fragments of glass lying spread out among the bathroom and the sink. I seen my reflection once more and I gritted my teeth and let out a sob that sounded almost like an insane laugh. 

I gently pick up a piece of glass and spin it around in my hand, it gleamed in the dying light bulb’s light. Its clean and straight lines were perfect.

The mirror, a thing to help ensure and improve a person’s beauty, will serve that purpose a final time before my mother scoops it all up and throws it away. I turned it so that I could see my fractured image reveal itself. My cheeks were raised into a grin and my eyes bulged with glee. I raise up the shard and I squeezed it tight feeling it open my palm’s surface.

I let the blood run down my arm and soak into my dark blue shirt and I drive the shard into the place my zit used to be, and I pull it down the left side of my face and guide it through my fresh welt. It stung beyond Hell, my body shuttered with pain as I went around my temple and just reaching my cheek, my horribly zited cheek. I screamed feeling my skin wrap tighter around the now slick glass and I felt my tears pour around and in the wounds stinging it further. I watched as the blood fell onto the dirty porcelain and over the faucet;  ‘I’ll be beautiful now.’ I think and laugh gently.

Before I could maneuver over my cheek bone, my brain pulsated again and my vision began to tunnel and then it all went black and I fell over and felt my head bounce off of the counter of the bathroom sink and the glass land on the tile with a ting.

What About Mrs. Carolina?

“So, what about Mrs. Carolina?” I asked,
“What about her?” Phil replied,
“Do we just leave her here?”
“Now why would we do that?”

Phil stood there with his arms crossed.

“I don't know, Phil.”
“Well, for fuck's sake, Pete,” he sighed as he lit a cigarette nervously, “We leave her here and then what?”
“Right. Right I get it,” I nodded, “It just seems kind of unnecessary, ya know?”
“Unnecessary? I think we're far off from the whole necessary and unnecessary thing ya think?”

Phil puffed out a breath of smoke into the stars, then stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and sucked in deeply.

“Yeah,” I said, “I guess so,”
“Besides,” he stated, “We can't just turn back now. It's way too late for that. If we do, this shit will be on our minds for the rest of our lives. We'll see Mrs. Carolina here every time we close our eyes if we don't take care of this,”
“Okay, Phil,” I said, “We'll do it.”
“Thatta' boy, Pete,” he gave me a quick pat on the shoulder and smiled, “come on. It'll be fun. Quit being so damn awkward all the time. Hell, I'll even let you have the head.”
“If you say so.”

He laughed and pat me on the shoulder again, then he took the cancer stick from his mouth and cast it onto the concrete and ground out the embers with the heel of his shoe. Then we went inside.
Mrs. Carolina knew how to decorate. Fine this, fine that-- her husband sure as shit didn't have a taste for fine things. Except, women. He knew how to pick 'em. Mrs. Carolina, with that golden hair of hers and those emerald eyes that just pierce you whenever she looks at you; and damn was she smart, I mean, she was a teacher after all. She was tough too, I like that in a woman, it gets me off when I know they can take control in an instant.
Mr. Carolina was out of town on business probably screwing an assistant in the room of some roach motel. Tonight was a perfect night for this. The kid gone. Just Mrs. Carolina.


Somewhere in the farther reaches of the house I could hear Mrs. Carolina's muffled voice speaking. Pete had her call her husband and check in. The call didn't last very long, Mr. Carolina made it brief, he probably was getting hard while a tan, young receptionist rubbed her soft hands all over him.
Pete and I turned into a hall lined with family photos and fill in photography of flowers or bees or anything nature like for that matter.

We came to a dark walnut door and Pete raised his hand in the cockiest damn way and gently knocked with that five cent grin of his. Without an answer he opened the door still holding that cheesy smirk on his face and we went in.

“Hey Mrs. Carolina,” Phil said slyly,
“Hey boys,” she said licking those cherry red lips of hers as she dropped the right side of her dress and exposed her pink, perky nipples. She stood up and let the rest of her clothing fall to the ground. Phil stepped behind her and felt her up a little and she knelt down in front of me, carefully placed her bottom on Phil's crotch and started to undo the button on my jeans,

“You still want the head right, Pete?” he said as he quickly undid his pants and shoved himself inside of her,
“Yeah, I do, Phil.”

She took me in her mouth and started to moan around me.