Yul looked into the mirror and the voices returned. It doesn’t have to be this way. “You lie!” she spat. But they returned. It doesn’t have to be this way. Tears flowed and her blue eye makeup ran like watercolors. She tried to smile but the knots in her stomach would not allow it. You can do this. “Do what? Look me in the eye and tell me what I can do.”

The mirror didn’t move and her image became blurry as her nose joined forces in discharge. “You knew it was going to happen. Always did, always does. Nothing changes.” No, not this time, you can let it go. “Frail you. Tell, me what the frail do I let go of? Answer me! What the frail do I let go of?” Whatever you are holding. “Look at me, look at me, I’m not frailing holding anything.” I can see you don’t believe that.

Yul felt her knees give and her hands reached out to the vanity. Her hair, matted and wet, stuck to the side of her face and her head hung down as if she was going to be sick. “You heard what she said. We’re leaving.” But she doesn’t know. “She doesn’t care. Did you see the look in her eyes? She hates me, just like all the rest. And now, she is going to punish me. But you know what. She is going to learn. There ain’t nothing that will wash blood off one’s soul.” Yul laughed.

You’re wrong. “Frail you. Red dress, oh she looked so pretty. Yes so pretty. We’ll see how pretty she looks with my blood on her hands. She’ll rue the day she brought me back.” You don’t mean that.

Yul picked up a small bottle of perfume and smashed it against the mirror; a thousand shards of glass flew like daggers in every direction. “The frail I do, now get out of my frailing head! Get out, get out,” she cried, grabbing her hair and pulling as if to evict the voices in her head. Falling to the floor she pulled her knees to her chest and whimpered softly, “Please, just go, please, leave me alone.”

“Oh my Janus Yul,” exclaimed Rog. “It doesn’t have to be this way baby.” He pulled Yul into his arms and held her tight. “I’m so sorry, oh baby, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” And he pulled her tighter and her arms, weak and shinny with glass, wrapped around him.

Categories: Story, Yul, Rog