MirroredSelf
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amantha paced in circles in her room, deep in thought. She passed in front of the mirror and caught a glance of the boy she called stranger. âHello, Samâ The boy mirrored her movement as she walked towards the mirror. âWhat do you want...â She muttered, yet gazed longingly at the figure. He had short, messy hair, and slightly strong jawline. His chest was flat as a canvas, and he was draped head to toe in baggy clothes. He smiled at her, teasingly. âHow have you been? Havenât looked at me in a whileâ Samantha looked down at herself in disgust. âI just havenât looked nice lately, thatâs allâ She looked down at her curves, defined extra by the tight clothes her mother had gotten her. Her breasts stuck out awkwardly, and her long, wavy hair draped over her bosom. âTell me something I donât knowâ The boy laughed. âYouâll never think you look nice like this, Sam. Trust me.â Samanthaâs eyes darted away from meeting his.âYou donât know what youâre talking about.â She turned to leave. âYouâre... youâre not real. Iâm just going crazyâ âSam, weâve known each other for yearsâ He sighed. âStop lying to yourself.â She stopped in the door frame, and turned her head to look back. âLeave me alone.â The boy frowned, and pressed his hand on the other side of the mirror. âSam...â âI said LEAVE ME ALONE!â Sam turned around and bellowed at the top of her lungs. The boy fell silent, staring in
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shock. âYo-youâre not real.â Small tears ran down her cheeks. âPlease just leave me alone. I donât want to see you again... ever.â Samanthaâs mother came running up the stairs, and her eyes darted around the room. âSweetie, whatâs wrong!? I heard screaming.â Samantha looked up, meeting her motherâs gaze. She choked back more tears, as her Mother turned to the mirror. âMom... he... he,â she sobbed, and collapsed into her motherâs arms. âAw, sweetie...â Her mother held her tight, squeezing the breath out of her. âThis again?â She pulled away and cocked her head in concern. âWeâve been over this... heâs not real.â Samantha wiped away more tears and looked at the boy in the mirror. He glared at her mother with flames of fury burning in his eyes. Samantha struggled to continue through her own weeping. âMom, Iâve felt like this for-â Her mother quickly interrupted her, as always. âNo. Sweetie, I love you. Youâre a beautiful girl, thereâs no problem! Youâve just been overthinking things, and you got confused, thatâs all! He doesnât exist.â The older woman slowly stroked her childâs head, again and again. After a minute, they both pulled out of the embrace, and Samantha nodded reluctantly. She waved goodbye to her mom, who began to leave the room. âWhoâs my pretty little girl?â Her mother beamed and giggled, and Samantha feigned a smile as her mother shut the door. âThere.â Samantha whipped her
head around to the boy. âItâs done. Weâre through.â âSam...â He reached his hand out in desperation. âSTOP CALLING ME THAT!â She threw her entire weight into her arm, punching her fist straight into the glass mirror. It shattered into a million tiny fragments, and the boy was gone. Samantha cringed at the intense pain shooting through her hand.