Normal: Scarlet POV

Bold: ??? POV

I studied the antique mirror carefully, still half asleep. This mirror was my prized possession; I absolutely loved the images carved into the frame, although they were quite a bit violent. The story started innocently enough, with a girl staring into a mirror, her reflection staring back. The next images were increasingly more gruesome, depicting her reflection exiting the mirror and stabbing her. The reflection then reenters the mirror, staring out, smiling at the corpse. These illustrations were surprisingly realistic, obviously done in painstaking detail. The mirror was old, but not worn. The wood still looked new, and the glass had aged well. The glass had a blueish tint, not unlike sea glass. The glass also had patterns swirled into it, distorting the images it reflected back.

It was pure luck that I had come across this mirror. It had been lying in an old abandoned house I'd gone into on a dare, my friends believing it to be haunted because some old lady was killed there years back. I'd come out holding the precious mirror, beaming, but my friends had been terrified, begging me to put it back, fearing I'd anger the supposed spirit residing the house. I rolled my eyes but restored it to its original place of honor in the bathroom. I returned the next day, reclaiming the mirror and stealing back into my room, unnoticed. I had kept it since and would never part with it.

My deformed counterpart worried their lip with me as I realized how long I'd been staring into the depths of the mirror, completely absorbed.

My brain tended to do that sometimes. I had a fairly rare mental condition that convinced many I was crazy. Mostly it wasn't a lot of trouble, just getting lost in my mind, floating away. I focused on the mug of black coffee I was cupping in my hands, the burning ceramic grounding me. Breathing in the bitter steam centered me.

Moving out of the bathroom into the living room, I exhaled deeply, setting the mug, my lifeline, on a maple table. The table was one of my favorite purchases. I ran my fingers over the coarse surface, feeling the vine and flower designs embossed onto it.

The door creaked a little and I frowned, the door was new, it shouldn't already need repair. Of course, it possibly wasn't new and my mind is just blanking...

I twisted my fingers into my hair, curling the chestnut locks around my finger, just to give my hands something to do. I released my hair with a sigh, letting it fall back into its spiraling curls, tight and big.

I sat on my couch, also antique, bought at a yard sale, reveling in the soft velvet. I stroked it a bit, my calloused palms catching and snagging the fabric. I relaxed into its arms, making a content noise deep in my throat as it adjusted to my weight.

I was yanked quite rudely out of my tranquility by the sound of something whipping through the air. My eyebrows pulled together as my eyes darted around, looking for the source. I found it a second later as a knife nicked my ear before embedding itself in the couch. The door creaked again, slowly pushing open to reveal the knife thrower.

"Hello, Scarlet," The syllables of my name were dragged out, the speaker relishing the word.

"W-what?"

"Oh, poor baby," the sickeningly familiar voice taunted me.

The sheer terror coursing through my veins finally snapped me out of my daze, and I searched the room for escapes. The only window was decorative and placed too high to reach. The door was blocked. I was trapped. Quickly calculating my chances, I rushed the threatening figure.

The element of surprise worked in my favor until another knife was drawn. I was able to evade death or injury with my agility for a while. But it didn't last.

A knife pierced my chest out of the blue, pinning me down. The pain forced a scream out of me. It was an animal scream, terrified and shocked, a summary of the pain filling my chest. I fell onto the ground.

I pulled the knife out, and of course my floaty mind had to note the glass handle, daintily inscribed with cursive words. The curved blade was almost beautiful. I was still staring at the knife as my head spun and my vision narrowed. The figure was watching me passively. I gasped for air. No, no, no. Too late, my cursed mind supplied. Tik Tok, your time is up. Shut up. Bye-bye, it's your time to die. No! You're done, woman.

Done

Done

Done

Done.

The word echoed through my head.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

My vision tunneled and I inhaled, concentrating on the rise of my chest. Was this the end of the line? I tilted my head, peering at the red I was now lying in. There was no chance of survival. There wasn't even a point in staying awake any longer.

As I blew out my breath, I let myself relax, giving up. One more breath, one more rise and fall. I watched my chest, felt my heart beating, clenched my fists just to feel them, reveling in my final breath, then let my eyelashes flutter closed. I could feel them resting on my cheek. I was hyper-aware of everything. Strands of hair moistened by my tears were pasted onto my cheeks. The world was spinning out of control. I let it. My face was heating, my skin tightening and loosening. My heart beat faster. My stupid, stubborn heart. It'll be better, heart, if you give up. It didn't listen. Suddenly everything quieted. The sound of my heart was gone, the absence of it almost deafening. The light shining behind my eyelids faded, blinding me. My sense of touch disappeared, overwhelming me.

pov change

Her chest rose once more. This was taking forever. But what did it matter? I had forever. I was Forever. She blew out a breath, then her whole body loosened. Another breath. Clenched fists, closed eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered, her breaths grew shallower. Then she was gone.

My beautiful knife was still clenched in her pale hand. She had been admiring it before she fell, special girl. I crossed the room, tugging the dainty weapon out of her grip. Her limp cadaver didn't resist. I left her lying there.

I crossed the hallway, entering her bathroom containing my mirror. The face of Scarlet Adams stared back at me. With her tiny face, huge grey eyes, button nose sprinkled with freckles, and heart-shaped mouth, all framed by chestnut princess curls, she looked almost doll-like.

I studied this reflection for 15 hours, until, at midnight, the carvings on the frame faded, then reinscribed, this time depicting the unfortunate fate of Scarlet.

I fingered her curls one last time before stepping through the mirror, the cool glass sliding over me like water.

This mirror is my home and every Friday the 13th I exited it and terminated whoever had possession of it. In between these special dates I resided in the mirror world, as is appropriate for a reflection.

Until the next Friday the 13th, farewell Earth.