A Tomb of Mirrors

In the early days of the end times, my villa, thanks to its peculiar design, was a fortress against the lesser haunts. It was our safe haven.

Safe as we were inside, the fact that we could not step outside spelled out a grim reality: no food.

Hunger struck hard, and after two days, my husband, Christopher Larson, and mother-in-law, Sally Parker, had me bound to a chair. It was beyond my wildest nightmares that they would turn on me like that.

My pleas fell on deaf ears; they were merciless. To keep their 'food' fresh for a few more days, they went so far as to carve the flesh from my legs. The agony and despair hit me like a tidal wave. I screamed until my voice was nothing but a rasp, only to hear them complain, saying, "This woman's meat is so tough!"

To keep me from dying of infection, they even shoved anti-inflammatory drugs down my throat.

Those seven days were a blur of torment, and how I made it through, I could not say. On the eighth day's dawn, the greater haunts arrived, and every last refuge crumbled. My husband and his mother, desperate to live, pushed what was left of me, almost a skeleton, out the door without a second thought.

I lay there on the doorstep carpet, feeling every excruciating moment as the haunts gnawed me down to my bones.

They were thrilled when the greater haunts paused because of me, seizing the chance my sacrifice gave them to flee without a backward glance.

My awareness, my every sensation, did not fade until I was picked clean. I felt it all, every moment of being devoured. I saw with my own eyes my transformation from a person to mere fragments.

However, who could have guessed that I, who had been tortured to death in the apocalypse, would find myself reborn a month before it all began?

Staring at my whole, unharmed reflection, it all felt like a distant dream.

I had to pinch myself, hard, before I could believe it: I was actually reborn!

I had not even started to celebrate when I heard footsteps behind me.

Christopher was there, his arms encircling my waist. "Honey, you've been working so hard you're wasting away. I'm tied up with work. I thought it'd be best to have my mom stay here and look after you."

Chills ran down my spine, and it took every ounce of self-control to quash the impulse to end him right there.

This had all happened in my previous life. Under the pretense of caring for me, Christopher brought his mother into our home. They preyed on my vulnerability, my longing for the family I lost too soon. They played me with sweet nothings, and I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

He claimed he wanted his mother there to care for me, but as soon as Sally arrived, she swiped my jewelry, claiming she needed to tidy our room.

I was so blind then, thinking it was okay if it made her happy.

The very next day, Sally complained of feeling sick.