She woke up with a start. Another day, another look, she thought. Her heart filled with dread. And loathing. She didn’t like to look and would often try her hardest to avoid it, but, inevitably, she always did. It was almost like a sick fascination. She took a preverse pleasure in what she saw. Sort of like rubber neckers going by an accident. You didn’t want to look, but you just couldn’t help yourself.
Today, she thought she just might jump right up and get it out of the way. It would haunt her whether she did or not. She sighed and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and slipped into her slippers.
She shuffled into the bathroom and stopped with her hand on the switch. Her breath came faster. She closed her eyes and turned on the light.
Ok, she thought, like a band aid. Quick and almost painless. She giggled despite her quickening heart.
She snapped her eyes open. Even though she’d seen her own death a thousand times in the bathroom mirror, it never ceased to make her scream.