Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It�s haunting how I can�t seem
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
�Crawling� � Linkin Park
I stare at the woman in the mirror, unable to recognise the stranger staring back at me. She has the same shade of brown hair as me, but hers is crimped and matted. It�s like a rat�s nest. I hate it. Her face is heavily made up in shades that make me think of women who stand at street corners just waiting to be picked up. Or one of the Godfather�s hos. She�s even dressed like one of them.
It is my face, but not the way I remember it. It is me, but not the way I remember me. It�s not the way I want to be remembered. It�s not the way I want to be.
And suddenly I feel so disgustingly filthy. Dirty.
I turn on the tap, and instant hot water gushes out of the faucet. The water scalds my hands, but I don�t care. I bend down and try to wash away every trace of makeup off my face. The water hurts, but it doesn�t matter. It�s washing away the �other� me, washing away the obscenity.
The ratty hair keeps falling into my face, but I don�t push it away. It�s as much a part of the filth as the hooker makeup. I take the complimentary hotel soap and lather as much as I can into my face, nearly finishing the small bar. And I scrub away at the dirt.
Finally, when I feel that everything has been sufficiently washed away, I turn off the water and straighten up, pushing back my now mostly wet hair. The front of my sleeveless hot pink top is damp, and sticks to my upper chest, but I barely notice.
I�m staring back at the woman in the mirror. The face is pink and raw from the frantic scouring. But it�s clean. She looks a lot more familiar, yet still not quite the me I remember.
The eyes. The sad, almost haunted-
�Steph!� Hunter suddenly calls from the behind me, banging loudly on the door and making me jump. �I�m going out!�
I say nothing. There is nothing to say. I may have his name tacked to the end of mine, but it doesn�t mean anything. What did I care about the nightlife of the man who had used me as a mere pawn in his twisted game?
After a few moments, I hear the door of the hotel room slam shut, and I turn back to the woman in the mirror. And I want to cry. For the lost me, for the woman caught in mirror. But she can�t cry, and she just stares back at me.
And I feel trapped, just staring at the woman in the mirror. I feel trapped in this loveless mockery of a marriage, forced to play along. I feel trapped in the soulless nightmare that my life has become.
I am trapped.
For where is there to go when your own mother revealed herself as the true Higher Power?