What happens when your reflection comes to life?
She gazed into the mirror, watching carefully as emotions slid across her face. First happiness, then innocence, anger,lust and contentment. Lies, all lies. None of these emotions were hers.
At the inquest some will say that she was shy, others will describe her as misunderstood. She is neither. I know the truth, I was there for it all. I watched as her hand guided the cup to his lips. I alone, saw the look of savage triumph in her eyes as the light faded from his. She killed him you see, I know, I was there.
It started months ago. He began coming home late from work. At first she thought it was harmless, just a few drinks with the boys to mellow out and relax.
After awhile she became aware of a scent on this clothes, not the scent of tobacco or beer as you would expect to find in a bar, but a floral scent. She voiced her suspicions only to be met with a slap and a bellowed "don't be stupid." Later that evening before bed he apologized for being cruel. But she neither forgot nor forgave anything not the slap or the yelling.
That night while the beast, as she'd come to think of him slept, she hatched her plan. It would take months of work, but in the end she would have her revenge. Never again would he belittle her, or hit her. She'd make certain that for awhile he'd have no reason to. I watched her silently as she plotted her vengeance, never betraying my thoughts. I'd not be the one to make her see reason.
After that night his meals were never late, and if they tasted a bit off he never mentioned it to her. The house was kept spotless, his laundry carefully done and neatly put away, he never mentioned the strange rash he developed. He marveled at his improved wife, she was thoughtful,courteous and undemanding, the ideal woman.
Over time he began to grow weaker, it seemed as if the weaker he became the happier she was. There were days when he couldn't leave the bed,at these times she, the devoted wife she was, brought his meals to him and tenderly bathed his gray withered body. She became the talk of the town, that precious kind woman, why if every woman were like her, no man would be lonely. Oh how I laughed, everyone was so blind. Why could they not see the darkness under that radiant smile?
Then the day arrived, as I knew it would, he refused his breakfast and took her hand, "My darling, you've been so patient, and so caring, I fear that this is the last we will speak. I'm so sorry dear."
"Shush now", she answered, "Drink your wine, it's good for your heart."
Good for his heart, how I wanted to laugh and to scream, yet I kept silent as her hand guided the cup to his mouth. I knew it wouldn't be much longer.
When his breathing stopped she called for the doctor who decided that the death was natural. Natural?
Has any word ever sounded so stupid?
You see now why I had to step forward, out of the shadows at last your honor? I've been silent for far to long. I had to speak out, to tell the truth. Her husband was poisoned. I know because I was there. I watched her practice her expressions in the mirror, I watched her hand pull the seething hatred from her heart and feed it to him. But there's only one thing I just don't understand your honor...
How did I get out of her mirror?