They didn´t reflect. My ragged hands slowly ran over the solid gold frame, glimmering brightly. Divets creating two doves, fleeting away with an olive branch in tow, eloquently coddled my touch. Vast space littered with the same exact mirror surrounded my lanky frame. All of them were the same, down to the fine scratch that graced over one of the doves wings. There were no distinguishable featues to the room around me, other than the opaque floor holding up my aching feet, to the old, deteriorating ceiling narrowly dangling above my sun-stained locks. They copied everything, but me.

My hand unwillingly reached out to feel the cold, unknown barrier. Heart quickening steadily, and pressing down harder, the once immovable barrier coated every inch of my hand. Tearing away from the glossy mirror, my skin felt tight, and to an extent, it burned. The cuts, scars, brusises, seemed to vanish as I look at where they once used to dwell. The melted glass, filled my head as I pushed through the slick blockade once again.