Blood was sprayed everywhere. They feel weird against my skin. I watched the red oozed, the light catching it, making it glisten.
The man in front of me was not moving. I can see the cuts all around him, his pale arms and legs filled with deep scratches, his lips badly wounded. His eyes, a striking blue, stared blankly at me.
Stared blankly at him.
After a second, I felt the pain. I can feel his wounds– literally his wounds. I had a part of me stuck there. They feel warm and soft. Slimy.
I can feel his lips. They were chapped, cracked. Yet soft and wet– it must be the blood.
I had kissed that lips a thousand times– not that I wanted to. He wasn’t technically kissing me, anyway.
I watched his steady frame. No sign of life.
His body was as frozen as mine. Static. Not moving forward.
Wait, I can move backwards. There’s a little time left.
We can still reflect on the past. What led this… this… whatever this is. Tragedy? Clearly not. There are much worse things that had happened. This is practically the solution. Not the best one but one that ended all the questions. Not that it mattered.
So, yes. Reflect. Now, that’s something I have done a thousand times– and wanting to. That’s the one thing I do! Reflect!
If you stare at my eyes, you’ll see yourself. I see you as well. It’s a give-take kind of relationship.
And I have seen everything.
If you stare at the mirror, what do you see?
And what’s in the reflection?
That’s for you to decide.
And he decided wrong.