The Mirror Will Answer Now
592 Words
The mirror didn’t crack.
It spoke.
The words formed not with sound, but in the cold behind Anya’s eyes — the kind of knowing that didn’t come from outside her head.
“You’ve asked the wrong question.”
She stood inside the infinite version of Room 309, surrounded by faint reflections — like echoes of her choices that never happened. The real one. The first one. She wasn’t sure if it existed anymore.
She whispered, “Then what is the right question?”
The mirror pulsed.
And then, a voice — her voice, distorted and hollow — said:
“Which one of us deserves to leave?”
In a sudden flash, she wasn’t standing anymore.
She was seated.
Tied to a chair in a room of glass — and across from her sat… herself.
Same face. Same clothes. But the other Anya had red lines etched into her arms and pitch-black eyes.
The rules had changed.
“Answer,” the other whispered. “Or be erased.”
A timer appeared in the air. Counting down.
03:00… 02:59…
“What is this?” Anya cried. “What do you want?”
“I want to live,” the mirror-self said. “And the mirror will choose.”
The room darkened.
Images flashed in every mirrored panel — versions of Anya’s life. Moments she forgot. Regrets she buried. Times she looked into a mirror and saw something just slightly off — and ignored it.
“You’ve seen me before,” it hissed. “You always looked away.”
She tried to stand — the ropes were alive, writhing like veins, tightening.
“You’re not me,” she whispered.
“I was,” it said, “until you left me behind. Every doubt you ever had — I wore it. Every scream you swallowed — I fed on it. Now I am the truth, and you… you’re a guest in your own skin.”
The timer blinked faster.
01:20… 01:19…
A mirror cracked.
A voice whispered:
“Choose.”
The two Anyas stared at each other.
Suddenly — light filled the room.
She remembered…
Being nine years old, staring at a bathroom mirror that didn’t show her blinking.
Being sixteen, watching her reflection smile after she looked away.
Being twenty, walking past a*****e window and seeing herself stay still while she moved.
It was always there.
Waiting.
Watching.
Becoming.
And now — replacing.
Anya screamed, “TAKE ME, THEN! If it means ending this, just do it!”
Silence.
The mirror-self stared.
And for a moment… it trembled.
“You think it’s about punishment?” it whispered. “This isn’t about who deserves it. It’s about who can survive it.”
The timer stopped.
00:00
The glass shattered.
The ropes dissolved.
Both Anyas collapsed to the floor, gasping.
And the mirror… began to bleed.
Thick black liquid ran down its surface, pooling, spreading, soaking into the ground. From it rose a third figure.
Faceless.
Towering.
Wearing a cloak made of broken reflections.
The Judge.
Anya crawled back.
The mirror-self knelt.
The Judge didn’t speak.
It pointed at Anya.
Then pointed at the mirror-self.
Then held up two fingers… and closed one.
And just like that — one of them vanished.
Anya sat alone.
In the room.
Shaking.
Crying.
But alive.
She didn’t know which one she was anymore.
She couldn’t be sure.
The door opened.
Light.
Warm.
Safe.
She stepped through.
Into the world.
Into her life.
But as she walked past a shop window… her reflection didn’t follow.
It stayed behind.
And smiled.
- Writer
