People said that he was insane. He was inclined to agree. After all, your reflection couldn't really move and the voice in your head couldn't really talk back to you.
So why? Why was he seeing -and hearing- things that other people didn't? He was the Kingdom of Spain and he couldn't be crazy.
Before the war had started -World War 2? How original- his mind had become more alert to his surroundings. He was only alert to details that any normal person would've missed instead of important matter, but then again... he wasn't exactly normal, was he?
He was a nation of great standards and deserved to be respected. He had gone through bouts of madness many times before, but none of them instances had felt as overpowering as this. It felt like he was tearing himself apart. Split down the middle. His organs, bones and fluids becoming separated in the process. His organs, terribly fragile, would come apart easily - a scalpel making a clean cut. His blood would separate like the Red Sea...
...
Irony, a beautiful thing.
Reaching up to grab the cross hanging limply around his neck, he smiled bitterly. Catholicism had been cruel to him all of them years ago, putting him through extreme pain of torturous degrees. It felt like it was just yesterday that he had been put through the furnace, the burnt embers surrounding him and the ash clouding his eyes, making them water.
...
Turning around, he looked at the mirror, directly into his reflection's eyes. His reflection looked so much better than him. His hair was scruffy yet free from grease and grime, eyes shining and full of life, skin tanned from a full day in the sun...
...they were the same person yet so completely different.
Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, he punched the glass and watched it shatter upon impact. He turned his gaze towards the shards and smiled at the blood that ran down his arm, dripping and seeping into the cracks.
His smile was full of pain and sorrow (What did I do to deserve this?)
His eyes were full of untold horrors (Oh God help me please get me out of this nightmare!)
His mind was full of indecisiveness (Which side do I choose?)
The blood pooled around his boot-clad feet as he, yet again, smiled at the irony of it all.