I looked into the mirror this morning, and a different me stared back.
I expected two hazel eyes to stare back.
Only one did.
The other was of metal, a red light matching the size of the other pupil.
Lips that were once red were now pale and chapped, cracking.
I brought my hand up to my face, the metal one. Cold steel glided over my cheek. I studied the hand on my face, the delicate yet sturdy metal details and wrist joint. Sarge equipped it with black metal on the inside of the steel gray plates to keep the wires and such from being exposed. So delicate and beautiful, yet I found it repulsive and ugly at the same time. I hissed at myself and jerked it away. When Sarge first gave me these robotic pieces, I thought they were cool. Something to make me unique, something to make me stand out. Now, they're just there, and I'm just me. Boring and plain. Nothing special.
I could feel all of the synthetic organs move and pump inside of my midsection. Sarge made things to last, six months in and I never once had to go to him or Lopez for help. I imagined myself dying, and my entire body withering away, leaving behind all of my synthetic pieces.
I stared into my double's eyes through the mirror. The bathroom lights made his skin ghostly.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yes."
The double shook his head.
"No, you're not."
"I know."
"Why lie?"
I didn't have an answer for him.
The double smiled.
"You're pathetic."
"I know."
"You are nothing."
"I know."
I looked down into the sink. My ears rung loud. I gripped the edge, my knuckles turning white. I felt sick, my heart heavy in my chest and my stomache churning.
"No one likes you."
"I know."
"Everyone hates you."
"I know."
My voice started to crack and my eyes stung.
I looked into the mirror, and the double's smile was wide, his eyes red.
"Pathetic."
"Please-"
"Weak-"
My body shook. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head.
"I'm not-"
"A failure and a freak-"
My limp quivered and a tear rolled down my cheek.
"Stop-"
"Stop what? Stop telling to truth? Face it, Dick, you're never going to aspire to anything other than a kiss-ass-"
"Stop!"
My left hand collided with the mirror. The shatter of the glass and the groaning dent of the metal medicine cabinet was loud and ominous. I opened my eyes. Glass was everywhere. The shards in the mirror were empty of my face. I gripped the sink edge, looking down at my metal fist. Glass shards were stuck in the plates connecting my fingers to my knuckles. My breath was ragged and raspy.
My knees felt weak, and I fell to the floor onto them. I curled my hand into fists and bashed them against the floor, my double's truths circling my head like vultures ready to feed on the corpse of a dead animal. Quivering lips lets sobs and moans escape my throat. I rolled onto my side. Glass poked and prodded the bare skin of my arms and legs, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough for it to be painful.
"Weak."
"Pathetic."
"Freak."
"Failure."
"Everyone."
"Hates."
"You."