Janie and The Gray: Part 14
Mirror-mirror. Part fourteen of a dystopian science-fantasy serial.
I walked into the bathroom, flipped on the light, and was startled by my reflection. It had been years since I'd seen myself. The one and only mirror at the factory had been destroyed the first week of my captivity — shattered for makeshift knives to arm the insurgents of the first uprising. The ghost in the glass had long raven hair that framed a pale face with hunger-hollowed cheeks. Dark moons surrounded its eyes and a sizable abrasion marred its forehead — a patch of pockmarked crimson that accented thin lips the same color. Not a ghost — a strung out vampire.
What stared back at me bore little resemblance to the girl I remembered. I leaned close to the mirror, staring into its eyes. My eyes.
"There you are," I said aloud, my breath fogging the mirror. "You're still in there, Janie."
I continued to pillage, gathering toiletries and medicine. In one of the drawers, I made an incredible discovery: a new, unopened toothbrush. I tore it open, covered it in toothpaste, and started brushing. Oh. My. God. After years of porridge and finger-brushing with soap, it was pure bliss. I moaned in pleasure through my mint-frothed mouth.