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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1771225-The-Other-Girl
Rated: E · Short Story · Psychology · #1771225
How do you feel about the girl behind the mirror??
NOTE: This is very new rough draft, will change so give me all the feed back you can!

The Other Girl
By: Brittany A. Preiss

The chair creaked slightly as I relieved it of my weight. Once standing, I slowly slid the wooden chair under my desk while simultaneously closing the small, brown, leather journal the lay atop my desk. I slowly, turned my body until I was facing the farthest wall of my room. The wall was white and empty with the exception of tall rectangular figure that hung directly in the center. It felt lonely and out of place, covered by a single thin ragged sheet. I started walking towards it, and with each step that I took the object grew larger and more threatening as if it were telling me to turn back.
Seconds later I stood in front of the rectangle, letting it tower over me. I was beginning to feel sweat droplets collecting in the center of my cold, red hands. Suddenly a foreign figure grabbed at the corners of the sheet. After a moment of confusion and terror my brain recognized the foreign object as a hand. Without the blink of an eye I tore the sheet off the rectangle reveling a long, full-length, dirty mirror. The instant sensation of regret washed over me as I locked eyes with the young empty girl standing on the other side of the mirror.
It was then that I remembered why I covered the mirror in the first place. The girl in the mirror was my height, my size and happened to look exactly like me, but wasn't. What I saw in the mirror was a girl who looked like me, but who was ugly, with a body stretched too ungodly proportions. Her legs were bruised and her hair was brittle and thinning. Pounds of flesh and lard covered her body hiding the porcelain bones that I strived to attain. I would never let the girl in the mirror be me, I couldn’t. I shut my eyes, trying to rid myself of the image of what I had seen. With eyes still shut tight I felt around for the closest object. A lamp. I lifted the lamp from its resting spot and whipped it at the mirror, shattering it into a million tiny shards.
© Copyright 2011 Brittany Preiss (brittanypreiss at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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