Sighing, and shifting slightly in her seat, she had to shift her gaze from the reflection for a moment, an unsettled feeling shuddering along her spine. She forced herself to face her reflection once more, to face herself, get the self deprecation over with and move on. She wanted the shadow back the familiar darkness, which she’d managed to wedge between herself and any being which threatened to unsettle her from her contentment. The shadow gave her power and control, however erratic it may be. It was a constant cover of her inner self, which she had once, many years ago, locked away, refusing anyone to see it, hear about it, talk about it.

The glint, was a crack, which she had ignored before, perhaps because she’d managed pursuade herself that everything would turn out for the better. She’d managed to fool herself into thinking that it would be ok to let someone in, breathe a little, get out of the small confined space she’d created around her, and stretch the limbs. How wrong she’d been.

The long slow destruction of the soul, by one of self-infliction, seemed so much the better now. The pain of mere living, of getting on with life, even in that morbid mode, had become a steadfast friend and now she felt more empty, bereft and alone than ever before, without its companionship to fall back upon.

What type of black magic had been allowed to weave its spell around her, that a tiny crack of hope had slipped past her best defences and caused her to, in one moment, let the well built walls of protection be broken down by a mere glance in one direction. From then it had been a long slow road, of discovery, and sudden uplifting. She should have known that the fall would come at a much higher price, and the breaking so easily done.