Whispers in the Dark

Mirror, Mirror

It was the flowers: white and pure. That was where it had started. They were a present, but also, a reminder of everything I would never be. The black sheep of my family. My father had given them to me in hopes of cheering me up. White orchids. They were my mother's favorite.

My mother; she was the cause for all of this. Daddy always loved mommy best. She was so pretty, so nice. His Snow White, he'd say. And, why couldn't I be more like her? Why couldn't I act like her, be normal?

That was when the cuts began. With the safety pins I'd slice away at my skin, trying to be pretty like mommy. It didn't work, and mommy sent me away. Locked me away in a tower. She claimed I needed help. Said I couldn't keep living in a fantasized world.

Daddy never came to rescue me.

But I am back. With those flowers. White like mommy. They seemed to be doing much better now that Mommy's heart is giving them life. She always did loved her flowers.

I pulled off the blue silk sheet draped over the mirror and looked into it, asking "Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who does daddy love most of all?" Daddy's face just stared back at me. His blood dribbling down, messing Mommy's white flowers.