One more look in the Mirror.

You don't want to but it's compulsive. You have to.

You look.

Nothing.

Maybe she's gone. Maybe she gave up. Maybe you're safe.

But as the lights begin to flicker, you know that's not the case; she's here. The room plunges into darkness, then the lights turn on - only to immediately switch off again.

Once.
Twice.
Thrice.

She always appears on the third turning off of the lights, and this time is no exception. You blink and when you open your eyes she's behind you, the slight glow of the mirror illuminating both of your faces.

You wish it wouldn't; her face is a grotesque mask. Forced into a permanent scream, it shows the terror of her last moments of life. Her eyes are the worst - where they should be there's a blood-soaked bandage. You know it's because she doesn't have eyes.

Anymore.

Mary's her name
She used to be your sister
You failed her.

She lifts up her arm and points at you, with a single accusing finger, yet when you look behind you there's nobody.

You're scared.

A taste assaults your mouth and you think it's bile before you realise it's coppery.

Blood.
Your blood.

She died alone and in pain; she wants you to feel how she felt.

You don't blame her.

As more blood fills your mouth and you struggle to breathe, she reaches forward. You watch in horror as her hand breaks through the mirror, a jagged crack spreading across its centre. Her arm is ghastly; ghostly pale and cross-crossed with prominent bloodless veins.

She grabs you.

She pulls you forward.
To the Mirror.

One more look in it and you come face to face with her.

She's grimacing; it's meant to be a grin.

Belatedly you realised you shouldn't have looked in it in the first place.

But now it's too late.