The blinding ache behind her eyes begins as soon as she sits up and, naturally, she immediately wishes she hadn't. The bruises on her arms and the apparent hangover in her head allude to a wild night, but when she glances at the over side of her bed, it's empty, untouched. If that's not a metaphor for her life, then what is? Still, Piper foregoes further attempts at humour in favour of rubbing her temples with the palms of her hands. The hell happened? she thinks, wondering if Joe finally managed to sell her unspecified recreational drugs.
She's unsure of today's schedule, but getting aspirin rates very highly on her list of things to do immediately, you lazy ass. Piper fumbles her way into the bathroom, hand over her eyes as sunlight streams cheerfully into her bedroom. The tiles are cool on her bare feet as she reaches across the sink and swings the medicine cabinet open wide. As if by divine intervention a packet of aspirin falls right into her outstretched hand. "You're the only drugs I'll ever need," she croons, tipping two into her mouth and swallowing with a hasty handful of water from the tap.
"Hey, don't abuse it until you, y'know, abuse it," a loud male voice says, obnoxious and obtrusive and entirely too close to her ear, which has started to develop a strange ringing sensation. Piper shrieks and feels the pain-killers begin to make an encore appearance, although she hastily coughs them back down. She whirls, brandishing the aspirin box in front of her, only to find her bathroom empty. I'm going crazy, she realizes. Dad finally drove me off the deep end.
"Normally I'm the first thing women notice when they walk into a room," the voice remarks casually. It's so close she should almost feel his breath on her ear, but when she pivots, slowly, she's greeted with a mere reflection. It's not hers, of course, but she's seen the last of it for longer than she knows. The man in the mirror nods, in a sentient kind of way, and she faints. On her way down she wonders if hitting one's head hard enough can cure them of their neurological ailments.
this is what i'm creatively labelling 'the mirror au'. stay tuned