Reflection

By EncryptionsOfZink

He stood there, paralyzed. Lips slightly parted, too shocked to utter a single word In his traumatized state, eyes uncharacteristically wide. They said he would someday meet his match. That while he thought they were playing into his hands, it was he, playing into theirs. But he would never have thought, it would end up like this.

He stared into cold, unblinking black eyes. Eyes that held so much knowledge; so much experience. Eyes, which were too old for the body in which they adorned. Those eyes filled with murderous intent.

He stepped back. Terror slowly creeping into his bones as his heart sped up. This could not be happening. This could not be true. He clutched at his chest with his right hand, trying to ease the pain he suddenly felt. This wasn’t real. Try as he might, he could not change reality. For what was done was done.

He felt himself begin to tremble uncontrollably and tried desperately to bring himself back under control. Never in his life has he ever lost control like this. Never in his life has he felt sheer terror, or dread such as this.

He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. He wanted to run and hide. But he knew no matter where he ran or where he hid, he would not escape the horrible sight before him.

His knees suddenly hurt, as he then realized he had dropped to them in his weak state. He let himself sit back on the calves of his feet, as he stared up, not able to tear his eyes from the sight. Finally, he looked down at his right hand that clutched so tightly to his chest, as he felt something wet dripped on it. He stared blankly at it, not able to comprehend what it was. He heard himself sniffle, then it hit him. He was crying. Something he hadn’t done in years.

He looked up one more time. Again staring into the cold blank, unblinking eyes. In a sudden burst of anger, he grabbed the closest object to him and threw it as hard as he could in his sitting position, at the reflection before him. With a sickening crack, it shattered. The gun clunked to the ground, as the glass shards scattered to the blood stained floor.

Everyone can be manipulated, regardless of what they may think.