A Mirror Is Turning

 A mirror is turning. 

It speaks to me. Scenes of my life are flashing in front of me.

"You did it because you enjoy control", a voice says.

A different voice interjects: "No you wanted to help"

"Did you really?", the first voice responds.

"At least you are not responsible", another one says.

And a final thought rests in itself:

"You'll always be responsible"

A mirror is turning. 

"This needs to be looked at."

"No it doesn't", I reply.

The mirror turns into a large dark figure.

Its fingers are pale and frozen.

It places its hand on my forehead, like a doctor checking for a fever.

"He's the worst I could possibly manifest", I think.

A mirror is turning.

It speaks to me. My thoughts turn into a melody.

No, it's a bass line.

No, it's an arpeggiated harmony.

No, it's a heartbeat.

"Who are you advocating for?" ... his voice cuts into me.

"For myself", I reply.

But he's not interested in atonement.

He only cares about the truth.

His hands are gripping my head; I feel the cold of his fingers on my neck.

A mirror is turning.

It shatters. Its pieces form new segments.

Faces looking back at me: Some proud, some ugly, some beautiful.

One of them is his. A dark silhouette without any features.

Impartial. Merciless. Intriguing.

"Who are you advocating for?"

"I don't know", I reply.

He seems pleased.

His fingers cut into my carotid artery.

They slowly detach my head.

A head is turning.

His eyes pierce into the base of my skull.

"This needs to be looked at", he says.

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away.

A dark silhouette without any features.

"If you had the chance to do it all again, what would you do differently?"

I pause.

"Nothing", I reply.

The words reverberate throughout his halls.

Warmth returns to my body.

He nods.

A mirror is turning.

I shatter it.

It's shards are spread out across the floor.