The sun forced open his eyes like an intruder, breaking in through the window sill with quiet intent, scraping its tendril-like hands across his face. He laid there, the bloodshot sclera accompanying his pupils in staring blankly at the ceiling. Another day.. he thought with a deep repulsion. He forced himself to get up and blundered drunkenly to the bathroom.
He stared at himself in the mirror, the unshaven bristles of his stubble mapping the beaten, weathered features.
A twitch cut into his concentration.
“So Matthias, are you still a failure?”
“Shut up.” The seedling of irritation took root.
“Look at you,” the eyes stabbed into him, critiquing. “You look like shit.”
“Shut. Up.” He said, his annoyance blooming.
“What’s a matter Matt? Am I hitting a nerve?” The mirror mocked him. “How long has it been since you fucked up your family? Ten years, right? Ten years since you -“
“Don’t patronize me with this shit! It’s always the same damn thing over and over. Find something else to screw me over with.”
A laugh slowly crept out of the glass. Matt looked straight into his tormentor, the brownish blue eyes piercing into him like music. His mirrored twin knew every weakness. He knew every minuscule detail, every minute fragment of memory, and every lie, down-faced shameful story, disgustingly painful secret.
“Hey Matt,” he gasped in between nerve striking guffaws. “Do you still - do you still talk to her?” He exploded at the thought, his laughter a vice grip cutting deep into Matt’s anger. “I bet you still replay that moment over and over again when she left you, huh?” He grinned.
Matt’s teeth gritted at his reflection, his fingers balled, the tips digging airtight grooves into the palm of his hand. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that you prick.”
“You do, don’t you? Wow. Holy shit, you’re one sad, piteous man, Matthias; an unemployed, worthless shell without a damn sense of reality.” He beamed a Cheshire smile.
“Shut your god damned mouth!”
“Or what, Matty? You going to break me? Split a few cracks in this mirror? Punch yourself in the face?”
The anger boiled a deep hot red, the hate beginning to overflow. Matt gripped the sink, ready to shatter. A little girl’s head slowly grew from the door frame.
“Daddy, are you okay? Is he being mean to you again?”
He hesitated and, after looking back at his daughter, sighed heavily. “Yeah, Lil, but it’s nothing. I’m okay. He’s just.. he’s just a bit annoying, that’s all.” He took her hand. “Let’s go eat some breakfast, yeah? We’ve got a long day planned and you need some energy.”
She smiled wide as they began to make their way down the hall to the kitchen.
“Have fun,” Matt’s reflection boomed after them. “Have fun in your fucking dream world.”
This is a fragment of a short story I’ll probably never get around to finish.