Mantra

It enjoyed making faces at me. The oddest of ogles and glaring grins. At times, it stayed subdued and perfectly still on the other side of the glass. Other times, The looks were intent and malicious sending cold shocks down my spine. I could never predict what kind of day it would be. I simply hold my breath and offer it a glance before moving on. I know that it would never have two nice days in a row nor would it horrify for many, but that's the most I can expect from this wildly unpredictable it.

It's really inescapable. The thing follows me all around the house through the glasses and mirrors. Toothy grins in the wine, mocking frown on the window. It patronizes me with every surface, but it could be worse. I used to leave the house to escape it, going everywhere I could. Even then, it followed me taking its dangerously angry expression from face to face. The people on the street morphed from stranger to hunter as it stalked on with me. I found it never liked when I left very much and neither did I after that. 

Without other option, I locked myself at home and got used to it. It never moved really when I could see it, but somehow it was doing something. I'd wake up in places I wasn't when I went to bed. There'd be claw marks on the walls and blood on my hands. That's the most terrifying thing about the situation, I can't watch what it does. Every night I go to bed facing its expression of choice not knowing what will happen while I sleep. 

The next morning I'll wake up and I'll stretch like any other person. I'll walk my way into the bathroom and straight into the shower. Still half asleep, I am not heavily worried about what awaits me. After, I'll step up to the mirror at last and scream to no one. It'll be staring with bulging eyes and my reaction will earn a smile. Then the day will truly begin with a muttered statement of "It's just another face."