Allen leaned against the sink for support, peered into the mirror and took a long, strained look at his reflection. He retched into the sink until he was blue. The bathroom was washed in a fluorescent light that nearly forced his eyes closed. As he looked himself over, he tried banishing the memory of the previous three hours from his mind, but the thoughts haunted him too well.
He rinsed his mouth out, wiped the vomit from his chin, and took a deep breath. His eyes welled at the thought that the last time he had seen his reflection, he wasn’t a villain. What he wouldn’t have given to go back to that last peek at himself. He hadn’t betrayed his friend when the day started, and there he was now: a garbage pile of a human. He thought of Jack and he was immediately sorry. He clutched his chest and sank to the floor. His heart nearly exiting his body, coupled with the sensation a roller coaster incites inside the body, only with more ferocity: that’s what he felt.
Jack was his only friend. Literally. Four years of Allen’s alcoholism had wedged its way between him and the rest of his connections, yet Jack and his forgiving heart managed to be there for Allen. Too many times had Jack ensured Allen fell asleep on his stomach. Too many times had Jack ensured Allen made his way home safely. Too many drunken insults from Allen had Jack endured.
The sound of the still-running water from the faucet pulled Allen back to reality. He swept the tears from his cheeks and pulled himself to a stance. He once again banished all thoughts of Jack from his mind. The faucet was intensely cold to the touch as he shut the water off, which jolted him back. That’s when he caught the fresh horror leering at him in the mirror.
It was Allen’s own reflection, yet the pupils and iris of each eye had turned blood red, as if threatening to burst open. He shrieked at the sight and double checked. Yes, his eyes indeed turned as red as a demon’s. His first instinct was to call for Jack, but Jack wasn’t there, and the pain in his chest intensified at the grief of Jack’s absence.
He pulled his arms to his chest, which caused him to realize his hands had doubled in size, and what had once been fingernails on the tips of his hands became talons. The fear coursed through his veins at a rapid rate and he couldn’t even hold himself in fear of clawing his flesh. He couldn’t squeeze his eyes closed in fear of them exploding. His breath became so faint that the relief of unconsciousness took over.
It was strange that after he passed out, the first thing his mind conjured was the melody of holiday music. The jolly tune was a striking contrast to the void of darkness his mind had trapped him in. As the darkness ever so slightly and ever so slowly lifted, the first thing he could register was Jack’s face. He was an angel, nearly resembling a miracle carved into renaissance marble. He too was grieving, but not for Allen. Because of him. Allen was petrified. He could not begin to process the words to express how deeply sorry he was.
The shrill pitch of his cellphone rushed Allen back to consciousness. After the fluorescent assault settled in his eyes, he checked his hands. They were still monstrous. The phone was persistent in getting Allen’s attention. He checked the screen. It was Jerry’s name scrawled across, prompting Allen to drop his phone as if it were covered in poisonous acid. The sight of Jerry’s name caused the pain to resurface in Allen’s chest, doubling him over. He heaved his arms around his stomach, and a new horror made its presence known. Allen’s skin, usually fair, had turned a murky gray, the color of Baptist brimstone.
This couldn’t be true. This is a dream. I’m such a horrible person. I deserve to die. His thoughts were rapid and fleeting. He couldn’t fathom the human body could be capable of such mutilation, of such an insidious metamorphosis. Yet no matter how many times he took deep breaths or closed his eyes, an increasingly hideous figure appeared before him in the mirror.
Startlingly, Jerry’s name screamed across the cellphone on the floor once again, bringing the past three hours’ events rushing to Allen’s mind. The weight of his guilt threatened to stop Allen’s heart. This was Jerry’s fault, he began to realize. Furiously he clawed his phone from the floor and scratched his phone until he accepted the call.
“Hey, you absolutely cannot tell Jack-“ Jerry pleaded, but he was cut off by Allen’s rage.
“YOU RUINED EVERYTHING! JACK WAS MY BROTHER!”
Both boys were horrified. What was once a light, humming bumble of Allen’s voice became a reptilian rasp. Allen turned to the mirror. His condition had worsened. He dropped the phone once more, this time stomping it. He wished he never convinced Jack to get drunk earlier. He wished he didn’t pressure him to continue drinking. He wished he didn't leave Jack alone with Jerry. He wished Jerry wasn’t such an ass of a man. And he noted the hypocrisy of judging Jerry while a literal monster protruded from his skin.
He fixated on the mirror. While the Monster’s movements matched Allen’s, the very present regret in Allen’s heart was absent in the Monster’s menacing scowl. His face had developed scales like a snake. A most vile and deceitful mark engraved itself around Allen’s lips, branding him a betrayer so foul that Judas’ reputation looked sterling in comparison.
Allen took one last look at the monster, hoping that in this last glance a glimpse of himself might be seen, but the Monster’s gaze had become all the more grotesque, as if to mock the little hope Allen had left.
This monster would not hurt Jack, Allen decided. He would never hurt anyone ever again.
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