The Looking Glass



The first time I saw her, she was fluffing her hair. She stared right at me, smoothed the bright auburn strands, and touched up her coral lipstick while she waited for you. When she finished primping, she gave me the saddest look I’ve ever seen. I’m not even sure she realized she did it. Then the door opened, and she exchanged the lost look in her eyes for a fake smile. You’d never notice that smile wasn’t genuine.




The second time I saw her, she looked at me more closely than the first time. Could she sense me looking at her? I panicked as she fully turned her head in my direction. She looked at me from across the room and smiled. Turning to you, she asked you something I couldn’t decipher. I heard you say her name - Marcia. You nodded and told her to “go ahead.” That’s when she sauntered over to me in a way that only she can. Her smile was genuine this time. I felt special.



After this, I saw Marcia frequently, but she was always with you. I saw the way you treated her. Despicable. The worst part of it was that she was always sweet to you. I had never seen her do anything that deserved the shitty way you treated her, and I’ve seen a lot. Marcia always offered to do what she could to help, but you couldn’t help yourself. You kept on with the designer drugs, the legal problems, the other women. You were a mess. If I had the chance with her you had, with the same problems, I would have changed. I’m not surprised you didn’t, though.




The last time I saw her, she had a bruise over her left eye, and you weren’t done. I heard the yelling first. I recognized your voice instantly; It has this grating tone that makes me cringe. At first, I thought it was just you. Maybe you were yelling at yourself, you know, the way people talk to themselves. For a second, I thought you had seen the error of your ways, not only in the way you treated Marcia, but in every aspect of your life. Or maybe you hadn’t had a revelation. Maybe you’d gone off the deep end. It would have been a long time coming.




Then she came into my view. I saw the bruise. My realization was slow, but eventual. You smacked her with the back of your hand right in front of me. My shock was palpable; I’m surprised you didn’t see it. You hit her again. The shock quickly wore off, and I became enraged. I would make you pay.




When you smacked her for the third time, something wonderfully unexpected happened. She discreetly wrapped her slim fingers around the fireplace poker and turned on you. The smug look on your face dissolved as you realized what was about to happen. I felt myself sigh in satisfaction when she smashed the poker into the side of your face.




Blood oozed from a small cut on your cheek. Marcia raised the poker over her head, this time aiming for your hairline. Before you knew what was happening, it came down with more force than I thought she had. The dull thud of the poker connecting with your skull would have made me smile if I was able. You stumbled backward, the look of shock on your face slowly being replaced with anger.




But you’re not fast enough. Marcia raised the poker once again, this time holding it like a dagger. She aimed for your eye, and I must say, she was spot on. That poker went straight through your eye and right out the back of your skull. I couldn’t have been more proud.




Your body slumped to the ground as Marcia wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, smearing blood onto her perfectly made-up face. That one flaw didn’t detract from her beauty. She smiled. It was the biggest smile I had ever seen on any of the girls you had ever brought into this penthouse, and you had to be dead for me to see it. What does that say?




But I digress. Marcia slowly walked over to me, keeping her eyes on me the whole time. She wasn’t looking at herself, like all the other girls did. She looked at me. No one had ever looked at me like that before. I felt proud. Marcia stood directly in front of me and ran her hands over my clean lines. She admired my beveled edge, my clear glass. “You’re a beautiful mirror. I just might take you home with me.” She whispered. I knew she couldn’t see it, but I beamed.




Marcia turned back to the spot on the living room floor where you lay. I saw every muscle in her body tense, and I knew why. Your body had disappeared; Only the blood stain remained. Confusion swept over Marcia’s flawless features as she turned back to me and saw your reflection, in front of the fireplace where she dropped you. Marcia swiveled her head back and forth, but no amount of swiveling would change what she was seeing.




My spirits fell a bit. She slowly realized what had happened. I wish I could make it clear. Marcia could never take me home with her. If I had a heart, it would have ached.




My home would always be inside this condo, hanging in the foyer, staring through the entrance to the living room at the fireplace. Awaiting another tenant; One even nastier than you. That tenant would get what they deserved too, just like you. It has happened for decades, and it will happen for decades still. People always get what they deserve, don’t they?

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