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Mirror, Mirror on the wall
who is the fairest
of them




 We were alike in appearance and standing.
 We should have been, no doubt. Konrad was my twin, my other half, the identical face of a coin unmatched by any other. He was as much mine as I was his.

  We were alike.

  My fingers, however, disagreed with the thought. I let the calloused flesh, still but sixteen years young, run themselves over the translucent pale body beneath their touch. Crimson rivulets remained from my newest endeavour against my own body, dotting my flesh and staining the prints of my fingers as they travelled down; pulled by gravity. The mirror before me never lied. My digits told no tales. Konrad and I were alike, yes, identical obviously; but we would never be equals. I took it upon myself to remind this body, to remind myself, of that every single night.

  I was marred in comparison to the flawless nature of my brother—of Konrad. The slits against my ribs rose and fell with every breath. I could see the pink and white nerves beneath my paled canvas stretch. I could see lines old and new merge. I could see—and my fingers could feel—every imperfection.

  The razor I had used remained teetering on the edge of my night stand. A large red streak remained on its edge in the dark candlelight I left flickering. 
  Fathers blades were always wearing and tearing, he would not miss it much. It was sleek, fierce, forged with the surname ‘Frankenstein’ in its hilt: it was perfect. It was mine.

  The sinking lines of my ribcage caught my eye then, made me sicken and sway. I was a fragile figment then. To many who sought me out, viewed me—I could be anything but. Loud, obnoxious, confident in all categories…but now? In the face of my own reflection? I was not even worth the edge of my blade. I was selfish to think myself enough. Selfish.

  My outstretched palm gripped tightly to the edge of my standing vanity. My vision hazed for a moment and the bile in my gut rose to burn at my throat. Arms were around me then, familiar and strong. Strong, opposing, fitted and perfect.

“You’re alright, Victor.” The voice cooed, stinging the drying crimson at my sides  as they ground against them.

“Leave me!” I insisted through gritted teeth, facing away from the voice, from the words and false promise it left me with. Breath met my shoulder, shuddered, soft, inviting… “Leave me, Konrad, please.” I choked back the sob welled in the depth of my chest. “Leave-“

“You always were so persistent,” His voice ignored my own, a smile on his lips—my lips in mimic—as they pressed gently against the curve of my neck. “Futile in your searches so, even I must admit.” Laughter then, quiet.

  We were alike.
  We were so different.
  Why did we fit?
  Why did we have to fit?

“Futile…” I seethed, shaking my head; hiding the smile my own features forced to betray on my face. “Against you.”

  Konrad smirked then, breath warm against my ear. “And I, you. Always you, Victor.”