My eyes slowly meet those of my mirror-twin and a hook inside my heart seems to catch, snag, and viciously twist, as realization comes. I no longer live. They aren't the eyes of a living person. Someone with hope. Someone with something to live for.
Cracks spiderweb across the glass.
The pain of the impact breaks the spell, cracked glass remaining in the frame for a moment, before my image slowly falls, smashing into a thousand razor-sharp pieces on the bathroom floor. A shudder goes through me, I'm uncertain whether it is of laughter, or anguish. Seven years' bad luck, they say. I ignore the mess and turn the taps on to run a bath, losing myself in the rhythm of splashing water. Finally it is full.