The door creaks as she pushes it open. With reluctance, she takes her first step into the eerie, dark room in this abandoned house in the middle of nowhere. On the cracks of its walls, she could see, as she squints, the dried remains of thick red blood that did not wash off properly. Pale red curtain drapes, torn and tattered, rest on ripped strips of wallpaper. A single window casts a large shadow on the floorboards as the pale moon casts its light upon the shed. A gentle breeze blows in through the tiny window and gives her the chill. Tonight, in this room, she has to face her worse nightmare – the truth about what really happened on the day of her mother's murder.
A white cotton fabric cloaks her pale skin. She is barefoot. Standing in this room creates an empty void in her soul. Memories of what once was a happy life, now of sadness and isolation, flood her mind. Today marks the anniversary of her mother's murder while the killer remains at large. Stepping foot into the room where her mother was found lifeless is almost as unbearable as finding out that she was dead. But she has to do it.
Her mother, before she died, revealed to her the nightmares that haunted her night and day. In them was a stand-alone mirror which rested at the foot of her mother's bed. She described the mirror to her as being transparent, revealing a figure, man or woman, she couldn't tell, that was staring at her from the other side of it. The figure then would step out of the mirror to attack her with a knife.
While contemplating, a piercing sound echoes through the walls of the dark room, which stops her thoughts of the past. She turns around and there, standing right next to her, is a mirror, old and dusty. She slowly walks closer to it. She touches it with her trembling hand and with her finger, traces her own reflection. As she does, her eyes, dark and deep, confront her with the most horrific stare. Then screams of horror once again flood the room. She covers her ears as her head shakes and her legs give in, unable to hold her weight any longer. She falls on the ground. She braces her legs as she swings back and forth, trembling and mumbling random words. The screams continue. She looks up and stares at the mirror, and there, on its reflection is the scene of her mother's murder.
She sees her mother screaming and pleading for her life. She had her arms crossed above her face to stop the knife's sharp blades from landing on her face and body, but the killer was strong and deranged. She couldn't keep count of how many times her mother was stabbed. The scene is too unbearable that she has to close her eyes tightly while she blocks her ears to muffle out the sound; until the screams fade away and it is all quiet again.
But then, it is not over yet. She slowly picks herself up by grabbing hold of the two sides of the mirror, shaking and almost stumbling back down. The killer is still there, standing above her mother's lifeless body. The killer slowly turns around to face her. Still holding the weapon and covered with blood, the murderer slowly takes its hood off revealing its true identity – HERSELF. She is the killer. Her mother's killer.
"NOOO!" She screams.
In the darkness of the room, she manages to grab hold of an old lamp shade and smashes it onto the mirror. Broken glasses fly everywhere, with some fragments cutting her face and body. Tears and blood cover her entire being as she curls up on the floor, sobbing like a new-born baby.
Then in her head, she hears a soft lullaby being sung by her mother as she put her to sleep. Overlapping flashes of past memories – good and bad, follow. One, in particular, is so gruesome; it makes her eyes open wide – one of when her mother finds her body soaking in her own blood after she had slit her own wrist.
Now, everything comes clear to her.
After being diagnosed with schizophrenia and after so many failed attempts to kill herself, her mother, with so much sadness and regret, had finally arranged to have her admitted to a psychiatric institution. On the day of her admittance, the ambulance arrived too late. She had already killed her mother before they could take her away.
It has now come clear to her that the mirror that usually stood by the foot of her mother's bed was her. She was her nightmares.
From a distance, sounds of sirens and sights of flashing lights are heard and seen. They are getting closer and closer. They have found her. Her heart beats a million miles an hour. She could not think straight – she never could.
With her eyes soaking in tears, her body covered with her own blood and her hands shaking, she falls down on her knees. She lays eyes on a piece of broken glass. She picks it up and brings it closer to her wrist and whispers, "Mum, I'm sorry."