"My world is devoid of hope. It's a world where all I hear is the sound of outside voices and the screams of those I kill. Where all I see is the black surface of an ocean reflecting a moon that is always a crescent, and the scarlet river that tears me in two, the river filled with the blood I have spilled. The river may not be real, but at some point, reality and imagination merge together, so bạn can no longer discern them from one another. At some point, it just won't matter anymore," Taylor whispered, resting her forehead against the spotted mirror that hung in her room.

How strange that humans thought ma cà rồng could not be seen in a mirror. She had mused this before, but it never failed to confuse her. She did exist, the vividly real fact of her existence proved that much.

Filled with a sudden rage, she swung her fist into the silver oval. It shattered, tiny particles of white dust fluttering out, triangles of glass raining down on the floor.

"Breaking glass. No, no, no. I can't break glass," Taylor muttered, her breath hitching, she shoulders shaking with the sobs that threatened to escape her throat.

The tears that ran down her face were the same inky black of her blood. Why did everything have to be the same?

She gripped the edge of the vanity bàn to support herself.

Where are you? I know you're there, Taylor. I know you're alive. Breaking glass always did that to you, didn't it? Taylor looked up, startled. The voice came from nowhere in particular, it just...came.

She's heard that voice before. Where? Why was it so cryptic? Why was it coming from her mind?

"You had to leave me!" she screamed, not knowing why she was doing so. Somehow, there was anger in her voice. She was screaming at something that did not exist, a mere voice. A voice in her head.

The voice did not make itself known, no matter how she asked it.

She resigned herself to pounding the wall, in some way begging release from herself.

How did a voice hold such emotion, particularly as she'd never heard it before, she was sure.

It spoke with an air of familiarity, as if it knew her. Extremely well.

Breaking glass. Had her tim, trái tim been shattered, shattered and broken like the mirror, whose pieces lay on the floor around her feet?

Broken. The word sounded so blunt, so shallow, and yet it spoke of unseen depths of sorrow and of so many hidden meanings.

Almost like a scar, a scar being traced bởi someone who knew nothing of how it had come to be there.

Nothing. It sounded like an echo. Fitting, as the people who felt like nothing feel like just an echo, fading each một giây a little more. Fading like ripples, the mere proof that something had been there, but with no other reason for just simply being.

I'm fading. I'll fade if I don't find you. Taylor thought, wishing the voice could hear it.