It was late at night. Around 1:30 I'd say. Bobbie had been put to bed hours ago and i usually went to bed right after her because i have work in the morning but i can't help but think about what bobbie told me.

"No, the mirror laughed." I recalled her saying. I was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of ice and whiskey in my hand, and the bottle to my right. I took a sip. This was really bugging me. Bobbie made sure I knew that she wasn't laughing but the mirror was.  

Maybe SHE was laughing but the mirror wasn't? No. That wouldn't make any sense. The mirror wasn't following Bobbie and doing it's job, and that's what fucks me up. I stood up from the table slightly drunk, walked over to Bobbie’s room, and stood in the door frame. She was sound asleep. I walked in and took the mirror off of her closet door and took it back into the kitchen. I placed it on the table and stared at my reflection for what seemed like hours. Nothing happened. I looked deep in my eyes and began to feel overwhelming sorrow and anguish.

What has this mirror been through?

I thought to myself. I looked deeper into my eyes and lowered my face closer to the mirror. Anger, sadness and confusion all mended together, swirled and crashed throughout my body. The lights when out. I was in a pitch black room with a loud ringing in my ears. "Hello!?" I yelled to atleast temporarily escape the loud screams of silence. No one answered. "Hello!?" I screamed super loud but the silence was louder. I fell to my knees. "Where am I!?" I began softly crying like a small child who lost their mother.

I cried and cried. But nothing happened. I fell forward with my hands over my face. It felt like an eternity before I woke up on the kitchen floor with a tears pooled on and around my face. I looked up and the mirror was propped up on the leg of my table and Bobbie was in it staring back at me. "Bobbie?" I gently whispered. "Yeah?" She said, her voice distorted as her words echoed in my ears. She began smiling as she reached her hand out of the mirror. It was covered in some sort of black tar and her fingers looked off, like there were more than there was supposed to be. I counted. Five. And they looked broken but again, they were just fine. "Bobbie." I insisted. She cocked her head to the side with a loud CRACK. I cringed at the noise. "Hm?" She hummed in a questioning manner.

I began reaching for her hand and she smiled harder. A big toothy grin was plastered on her face as I reached. I hesitated, and she did not like that at all. "Wh at? Go t a pr o blem ?" She challenged, her voice booming through the kitchen and cutting out at random like a glitchy phone call. I was speechless. My throat dried up. I put my hand down at my side. " H ey! Wha ts  y our PRO BLE M? " I stood up. "You." I mumbled. Her eyes lit up. In a bad way. She was pissed.