4 - Morning Routine
You slam your alarm clock to stop the blaring sound of the radio. You sluggishly slide out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You begin to brush out your tangled hair as you glance up at the mirror you see that you no longer have a brush in your hand but a knife. Your eyes shoot to your hand as it begins to shake. There's no way this is real your mind must be playing tricks on you your just tired, that's all. The knife drops from your hand and when you go to pick it up instead of feeling the rough grip you felt before you feel the smooth handle of the brush. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you gently place the brush back on the counter. When you look back up to the mirror your stomach drops as you see red liquid spilling from your eyes, ears, and nose. You taste metal in your mouth and blood begins leaks from both sides, spilling onto your floor. You quickly bring your hand up trying to wipe it away but to your astonishment your hand comes away clean. Your breath quickens as you turn on the faucet to wash off the blood but nothing changes. You can feel the cool water on your face but the blood just won't wash off. When you lift your head up a scream erupts from your throat. Your chest tightens as you feel a cold sweat emerge on your skin. There's a dark figure behind you and as you stare into its eyes, if you could even call them that, you feel the feeling of pure terror sinking into your bones. The creature's face is covered in blood and there are deep gashes stretching down it looking as if its features had been scratched out. The white glowing eyes with a slash straight through the middle stare at you and it feels as if you can't breathe you are frozen in place as if the light from its eyes is reaching out and paralysing you. You feel your hand begin to move and the same knife from earlier had reappeared in your palm. You feel a sharp pain as the figure wrapped its long black fingers around your wrist digging its brown nails into your skin. You try to fling the knife from your hand but it was like it had become an extension of it. The knife keeps coming closer and closer to your face and no matter how hard you pushed the force of the figure would not give in. You look into the mirror and see the figure holding the knife in front of your eye. It’s lips part into a smile displaying two rows of pointy black teeth as the world goes black.