there was a flash of red in the mirror. she whipped her head around, to catch a glimpse, to try and see-

there was another flash in the mirror. brown this time. brown was better than red. red meant hurting. brown meant chocolate. she liked chocolate. 

she turned around the corner. she opened all the stalls. nobody was there. 

she had to be there. there was a body right there. where else would Nemiah be?

Nemiah. Nemiah. Nemiah. 

where was she?

she turned around. there was red in the mirror again. she screamed in frustration. 

she swung. she smashed all the mirrors. there was glass all over the ground. it crinkled under her feet when she moved. her fist hurt. she looked down. there was glass in it.

pulling it out didn't hurt. that wasn't what hurt her. 

it was a little girl, creeping into her vision. it didn't make sense. there were stars. there was glass. she was hurting. she wanted to help her. she wasn't there. she didn't exist. it made her head hurt. she swatted it away. 

Nemiah. her. it was her hurting her. how long would it take to find her? she had promised it to herself. but how long. how long would it take. how long would it take to find her?

Nemiah. Nemiah. Nemiah. 

who was she. 

it made her mad. she swore to herself. she made a promise. 

when she found her, there would be no more talking. there would be no hesitation. she would kill her. and she would die. by her blade.