Oh no, I had broken the mirror. One small fall had done that.
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My family had said it was haunted and that I never should break it. Nor touch it. I had followed that rule for thirty years of my life until now. My three-year-old had accidentally pushed me onto it while we were cleaning the shed.
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“NO CAMILA STEP BACK!” I yelled,
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Luckily she listened and did what I said. I looked down to see the broken shards beneath me. A few had sunken into my leg. While others were spread on the floor.
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“Mommy, why is it moving?” I heard my child ask,
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Moving? Glass didn’t just move. But this was. I felt sharp pains in my leg as the glass pieces started moving out. Blood was pooling underneath me, but I couldn't focus on that.
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“CAMILA GO AWAY GO INTO THE HOUSE GO GO GO!” I screamed at her.
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She needed to be away. I could bare it if something happened to me but never to her. I saw her run out of the shed crying and shouting for her father.
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“Ah, so you’ve finally broken it,” I heard a new voice say,
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It was croaky, and old it sounded like a morning voice but ten times worse.
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I didn’t know what I had broken but now I didn’t have to think of it. The broken glass from before swirled around me. Then started jabbing and cutting me. Blood was coming from my arms, face and legs. My clothes were torn. I wanted to scream but I didn’t dare to open my mouth.
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Until it stopped. Only for a second. I felt like it was over. The pain the torture it was over. I was wrong. The glass shards were positioning themselves. I heard a snap then they all stuck to me. The blood from before started pooling between the glass pressing against my body. It hurt horribly. I felt the shard press against my mouth, then my eyes then lastly my nose. I struggled a bit. But I knew I would never be let free. I would die in this cacoon of glass.
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