NOTE: Another long, boring one coming
The reflection on the window caught his eyes. Looking at his own reflection, he felt eerie and scared….. Taking a step backwards, he bumped into his bed and sat on it. No, all the glasses and mirrors in the house were creeping him out…… They were haunting him, reminding him of what he had done…
The bright green iris of the eyes with their dark pupils were boring into him, piercing him. His own reflection seemed to be glaring at him. He tried to avert his gaze, but the couple of eyes of the reflection seemed to have locked him. He couldn’t look away, he couldn’t escape. With much effort, he tore his eyes off the reflection and shut them tight, squeezing them till he could squeeze no more. Those green eyes, those beautiful emerald green eyes, they used to be soft, kind, dreamy and pleasant. How had they turned so deadly? The had turned so cold, so nefarious. He had killed this person, this person who looked exactly like him, but was so different. He had killed his lookalike and now his lookalike was there to avenge the murder which he had done cold-blooded, without a second thought. Why was this so hard to understand?
With caution, he stood up, turned his head towards the floor and slowly opened his now wet, bloodshot eyes.
Not looking up still, he went to the window and careful not to look up, grabbed the curtains from the two sides and shut them hard. The hooks of the curtains rattled and the rod holding them shook a little. Without wasting anymore time, he turned around and fell on his bed, exhausted from the encounter with his reflection.
The soft emerald green eyes, as green as a ray of sunshine going through a leaf, were so harsh and unforgiving. The not so noticable sharp nose and chin had now seemed sharper than knives and deadlier that potassium cyanide. The high cheekbones and lips which had the soft look of petals had turned to stones: hard, cold, pale and merciless. How could Drew ever forget the deadly, venomous look of his own reflection?
But it was his mistake. Well, not mistake. Killing a person deliberately, knowing the consequences, wasn’t a mistake. He had murdered a man in cold blood just so he could lead a rich life with a decent job. He couldn’t forgive himself…. How could he expect his victim to forgive him? He hadn’t even apologized…. Well, what’s apology to a dead person?
A few weeks ago, when he had first realised that his victim was haunting him by hiding in his reflection, he had gone paranoid and removed all the mirrors from his room and bathroom.
His flatmate had asked what the problem was and why he was moving the mirrors out of his room, but he had shouted in agony and asked his flatmate to mind his own business and look at his own mirrors as they had separate rooms with separate mirrors and it should not be a bloody problem of Drew’s bloody flatmate to bloody look at his bloody self in his own bloody mirrors in his own bloody room and not talk about Drew’s bloody mirrors. Well, in short, Drew had freaked out and told the flatmate (rather harshly) that it wasn’t his business and Drew could do whatever he wanted with his mirrors. The flatmate had just stared at him, dumbfound more than offended, stupefied out of his wits. He had also muttered something under his breath that had sounded vaguely like ‘angermanagement’ and he was lucky that Drew hadn’t paid much attention to that.
But what was the use of removing mirrors when he could see the proof of his sin everywhere? Man, only if he could gauge his eyes out! But what use would that be? His nemesis wouldn’t leave him alone. And not seeing something, deliberately ignoring it, doesn’t make it non existent. Jesus Christ! What was he going to do?
Thankfully, in the outside world, no-one had noticed the absence of his lookalike. To be honest, the murdered person hasn’t been a very significant one and had never really existed to anyone. So, no questions asked, no nothing filed, no inquisitions, thanks.
Drew tried to clear his head in vain. But the more he tried to clear the clutter, the more the memories clogged his mind, blocking the way of clear thoughts. No, not a flashback, not now!
‘Not now!!’ Drew screamed as his body jerked and he dropped to his knees on the carpeted floor. His head hit the cold steel cupboard, but he didn’t move…. What could possibly be colder than those dead, green, seaweed-like eyes? They used to be like fresh green leaves. His own very eyes…. What could be more eerie, more uncanny that the hard, solid stare?
Desperate and frustrated, he shut his eyes tight as they brimmed with tears and tried to keep his stubbly chin from quivering. He let out a small groan from his trembling lips and his back muscles rippled with each silent sob. Dear, dear God, what could he do?
‘You must be happy now
To be the best to everyone somehow
You are what all want you to be
But look into your heart and try to see
What was your actual aim
It’s your life now not an easy game’
Drew pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to stop the throbbing, but it just wouldn’t stop. The headache was worsening by each second, as if someone was knocking nails into his head. Weeping and trembling, he curled up into a cacoon and fell on the floor with a thud.
‘Have you got what you want
Or will the once good dreams haunt
Don’t turn a dream into a nightmare
The rest of your sad life, it won’t spare’
Drew could not take it anymore…. What was it that was actually bothering him? The guilt that he had killed or the fear of the killed, what was haunting him? The guilt or the ghost? But in spite of every alligation and every finger pointed at him, he could still say that he had murdered because it had been necessary….
He had murdered a poet. An innocent poet, who had not done any harm to anyone, had to be slaughtered, yes. But there was a cause. Drew could show you the cause. Not one cause, but all the causes that he had seen (made up) after murdering…. Yes, um…. After murdering… That’s because he had flown into one of his rage fits and stabbed the person… Not exactly…. Well he had the idea of the murder before hand, well you see, it’s very hard to explain… Fumbling? Who is fumbling, surely not Drew! Fumbling infront of Judge Conscience? But Drew has Lawyer Excuse fighting for him. How can he lose possible. The opponent Lawyer Truth is strong, but not enough. Well, it’s a court case in Drew’s head. Why do you want to know anyway?
Well…. Those who are fans of Harper Lee must know that it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird, right? Well, that’s the type of sin Drew had committed. But he had been lured towards luxurious houses, big cars, secure jobs and other perks…. And the poet had been an obstacle. Tell me, what would you have done?
I say that Drew is right. Poetry doesn’t give you a career honey!
But Drew’s being right didn’t stop the poets last poetry from buzzing inside his head. It was so annoying, so true for him. What had he done? How could he live with this in his head?
He should have thought throughly, throughly before murdering the poet in him. He should have thought before compelling the poet in him to commit suicide… Wait, what?! What had it been? Murder or suicide?…. Don’t bother to find out, because now Drew was a guy with a good job, haunted by a poet that he used to be and annoyed by a poetry that he had written ages ago.
But one question still remained. The reflection that he saw in the mirrors, who was it of: the person he had killed or the person he had become?
NOTE: Yeah, I know it’s bad….. Basically, I don’t think I can write anymore… So if I wasted your time by making you read this, I’m not sorry…. It’s you who chose to follow me!