Reflected In You Novels & Stories

I looked at my reflection in the car window. ---

Not when your heart already remembers what it feels like to be fully seen. Not when your son has handed you a mirror… And the mirror refuses to lie.

She was afraid, her courage had disappeared since her mother died. It's been two years since she lived in hell, she can't respect herself anymore, her body is too disgusting for her to look in the mirror. She always cried every time she finished taking a shower and stood in front of the mirror, looking at her very ugly reflection. Many hickeys were visible on her neck and breasts. Making her cry again and standing again under the shower, rubbing soap on her body to get rid of all those marks, but in fact nothing has disappeared from her body, even her memories are firmly attached to Eleven's memory and it makes her sick. It was Saturday, after making breakfast, Eleven went into her father's

Was this some twisted fate, a cruel echo of the heartbreak her mother had endured? In a dimly lit bathroom, her reflection in the mirror betrayed a mixture of fear and longing. Tears glistened in her eyes, reflecting the flickering candlelight that barely illuminated the room. She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest as she steeled herself to confront Iden.

I question as I open it to read it. I’m watching you…

Her reflection followed her in every window a fraction ahead, sometimes behind, never quite aligned. She stopped in front of a dark storefront and caught her breath. Inside the glass, her other self was smiling again. “Stop running,” the reflection said. “You’re only moving deeper.” “I want my son,” Clara said. The reflection’s smile softened. “So did all of us.” The world trembled. The reflection blinked and turned, as if looking at something behind Clara. When she spun around, the street was gone. In its place was the corridor again the same one from before, long and humming, the air thick with memory.

The wolf should be jumping at any moment. She chuckled darkly. "A figment?" Her tone grew chilling. I turned to face her. A yelp escaped my mouth as I caught on her face as it was uncomfortably close to mine. Her gaze was harsher, eyes narrowing as she locked onto mine. "I’m a reflection of everything you refuse to face. And you’d better start facing it soon Harlyn. Everything you want to hold together so badly will start slipping through. You’ll hurt yourself or worse hurt someone you shouldn’t."

There are five of me. Each one reflected in a wall of glass angled just right. Each one showing a different version. One wears rags and chains. One is dressed in crimson, a dagger in her hand. One holds a child. One wears black armor and rides into battle. The last one—the last one is just me. Tired. Alone. The mirrors are merging now. Blending possibilities into one another. I close my eyes and breathe. You know who you are. The thought roots itself in my chest. It’s shaky, but it’s mine.

From an unknown number. I see you.