Recorded by the author on July 29, 2024 at The Mark Twain House & Museum
I stare at the mirror mounted on a wall in front of me. It is not a reflection I see before me, but a monster. A monster with its porcelain hands and face consumed by what it had just done. What have I done? I did not mean for this to happen. We were just taking a stroll by the river that runs in front of this very house. I did not mean to hurt them. I was just sick of being controlled and manipulated, forever silenced by my painted lips.
I stare at my glass, blue eyes and homemade golden dress, now coated with the guilt and regret that filled my hollow heart with what I had just done. My eyes no longer match the color of the sky on a beaming summer day. They now mirror the sadness of the parent when they realized their child would never get to grow up. Never get to experience the wonders the world has to offer. Never get to run into their fathers arms when he arrives home from a long day’s work. I can not even look at myself anymore. I am a monster. A disgrace. A liar. An unloyal, unfaithful, insane little object that deserves to be forever forgotten.
I take my eyes off of the mirror and shift them to my shoes. My beautiful silver leather shoes. Shoes that she gave me. They are coated in red. I hate red. I need to remove this red. I swiftly rush down the staircase to wet a rag in the washroom, only to bring it back to the room with that mirror. I want to shatter that mirror. I want to break and bury it so no one will ever see themselves again, but I can’t. I can not grant those devilish children the gift of not catching a glimpse of their appearance, allowing them to truly see who and what they are. I know who I am.
I rub the wet rag on my shoes and the red is not coming off. Why is it not coming off? Come off come off come off come off come off come off! This can not be happening. Not now. Please not now. I need to leave. No one can know what I have done. I stand here scrubbing and pointing my eyes over to the doorframe, being sure that no one enters this room.
A deep shallow breath grows closer, getting louder and louder with each passing minute. I turned over to the doorframe, but before I could see who was accompanying me in this room, I felt a rough hand grab hold of my hand. The rough force on my porcelain hand, felt as though my hand would shatter. The rough hand kept furthering the force, to the point where I wanted to scream, but had no lungs to do so. Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be free. My hand was just about ready to shatter, before a voice erupted from the harsh lips in front of me.
“Tell me what you did to my daughter, or I will shatter every limb from your monstrous body.”