The woman stood before the mirror. She was naked again and dressed in scars.
She had a jagged scar across her belly like a crooked smile.
Even the blind refuse to look at her — that’s what the townsfolk said.
She loved nothing more than to stand in front of the mirror and look at her broken but beautiful body.
The black mirror thick with dirt, and also thick with something else, so filthy that the glass has started to lose its effectiveness as a mirror.
Bits of the mirror had become black or congealed and peeled away behind the glass.
She couldn’t explain what had happened to the mirror but knew it was because the glass was old.
Like a body rots the glass had started to decompose and fall apart.
Would its reflection be lost or would it start to open up in the world for all to see beyond or behind the mirror?
She rubbed her belly where the big scar was.
There were little scars on her arms and legs but they were deliberate and intentional, self-inflicted, and therefore less to worry about.
It was ok to hurt her own body but what the townsfolk did to her was unforgivable.
And so she would not forgive.