Shards of Glass
&.&.&
A broken mirror. Shards of glass. Making his face seem disfigured and warped.
And who knew? Maybe it was.
The piercing, eerie eyes. The black hair, with its one white stripe, making it look as if all his grief and pain had been condensed into one area.
Even if his looks weren't something to be afraid of, his mind was. God only knew what someone would think if they actually knew what was going on up here.
All the hours spent reminiscing about a family that he no longer had. He remembered the many times Lucy would stand in front of that mirror, asking his opinion of how she looked. His answer was always the same; "You look beautiful."
Now that mirror was broken. Just like his soul.
Blood would get on it sometimes, after a particularly violent throat-slitting. If you got close enough, you would be able to see the tiny rubies engraved on the glass, like a tell-tale sign of what was really going on here.
Yes, that mirror was a portal to hell. Of memories lost and broken hearts. Poisoned by the corruptions of this wasted town.
Shards of glass. Broken on the floor.
Seven years of bad luck for each broken mirror.
Then exactly how many mirrors had he broken?