The theme at Theme Thursday this week is mirror. I used the mirror for the foundation of both of my pieces today.
He would never forget the look on her face when she saw him in the mirror. The emotions played swiftly through her eyes. Confusion. Fear. Anger. Resignation.
She knew he was here to kill her, and this time there was no quick escape. She’d taken everything from him. Family, home and career were jerked away with three bullets.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked his reflection.
He raised his eyebrow and looked at her pale face in the shimmery surface. “I’m waiting for you to beg me not to kill you. I’m waiting for you to apologize.”
She smirked, “Not going to happen.”
His expression shifted behind her from smug boredom to pulsing rage. “I’m waiting for my life back, you bitch!”
She saw his hand lift behind her and flinched away, but not fast enough. He wrapped his fist in her hair and shoved her face closer to the mirror. “Why? That’s all I want to know. Why kill my family and frame me?”
“I told you when we got together. I don’t share. Not with your wife. Not with your boys. Once you slept with me, you were mine.” She ended on a gasp when he ground her face into the glass, and the muzzle of his gun pressed into her spine.
“I ought to kill you where you stand, you evil, soul-sucking-.”
She cut him off with a grin when she rubbed her butt against his crotch. “You may hate me, but you still want me, don’t you?”
He stepped back until the only thing touching her with the barrel of his gun. “You took everything away from me.”
“So kill me!” Her screamed words bounced around the tiled room. “Do it!”
For an instant, the finger on the trigger tightened before he lowered the gun. “No.”
“Why not?” She was truly bewildered. Why didn’t he kill her?
She watched as his eyes left her reflection in the mirror and locked onto his own. “I still have to look at myself.”
She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, never hearing the quiet click of the door behind her.
Head over to Theme Thursday for more writing from this prompt.
I continued the mirror theme with my 13 things for Thursday 13.
13 Things in the Mirror
Hazel eyes that go bright green when filled with tears. They sparkle when I laugh and reflect my fears when I’m lonely.
Hair that once was deep dark chocolate has started to streak with silver. Not gray, not white, but shiny silver I no longer have the patience to cover.
Tiny lines feather from the corners of my eyelids, testifying to the millions of times I’ve laughed in the last 31 years, echoing the humor in my soul.
A normal sized nose rides in the middle of my face. It’s served me well, letting me smell the baby smell of my son just after his bath or the deeper scent of my husband when he holds me close and whispers his love to me.
Lips that are perhaps a bit to thin, but often stretch into a wide smile or pinch into a frown when I am concentrating on a particularly difficult task, cover straight white teeth with a small gap between the front two. They’ve formed words of encouragement, love and occasionally scorn, and held words that changed my life over and over again.
There is a neck that is not long or graceful, but holds my head high, even when I feel defeated.
My breasts are soft and rounded, even though they have relaxed a little over the years. They have pillowed the head of my love when I offered comfort, and provided endless amounts of humor among my not so bountifully gifted relatives.
There are curves in all the right places, and some of the not so right places to. Curves that have come and gone and come back again.
My arms are strong enough to hold onto my family with all I have, and comfort my friends when things are wrong.
The hands I have are small, but have conquered so many great tasks. They have helped me learn to cook and feed my family. They’ve worked tirelessly to master the art of playing the flute well enough to make some people cry. They’ve cramped in pain after hours of writing to help me express my creativity or to just let the darkness lingering in my soul out.
I have hips that are larger than I want, but what woman doesn’t? I try not to worry about that too much.
Then there is the foundation, my support, my legs. They are not long, but they are strong. They carry me forward even when I want to run away. They are marked with scars from my youth and tattoos that tell a story of me growing up.
When I close my eyes and block out what I see in the mirror, I can see the beauty my husband sees when he touches me. I can see the reason my son says, “Mommy pretty,” when he looks up at me. When I close my eyes and look deep inside I can see the creative writer my friends see and I encourage her. When I look away from the mirror, I can see the hunger for a better life for my family searching for a way to escape, and I can see the sliver of darkness left in my soul from disappointment, hurt, fear and anger, looking for a way to grow large and take over. When I open my eyes and look back into the mirror I see a strong, capable woman where before stood a fearful, ashamed girl.