Do You Trust Me? (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 6: Mirror Mirror.

Now that I saw its face, the demon was a startlingly spitting image of Jack, except for the eyes and the skin and the hair, which was also a sickening gray.

"I said STOP." I repeated.

The male demon smirked before disappearing into smoke. The demon that resembled me stood up and faced me.

She took one of her jagged fingernails, as sharp as a knife, and ran it down my lower cheek, close to my jawline. I felt warmth spread across my face as the skin opened and blood slowly oozed out of the cut.

I tried to move, or hit her, or something to get her away from me! But I couldn't move. I was frozen where I stood.

"Struggling only makes the pain worse. You know that. All the sadness you have felt, I have inflicted. We are not so different, you and I." she said quietly.

Before I could respond, she flashed a ghastly smile that sent shivers up my back, and she too disappeared in a flash of vapor.

I clenched my jaw, and wiped blood off the cut, wincing and hissing in pain.

"We are nothing alike." I said angrily.

  ******************************************

I felt a mattress underneath my body. It was soft like memory foam, so it definitely wasn't mine. I tried to remember last night.

  Mom....

I had told the story. All the way through, I told it. I hadn't lied about any of it, for the first time ever.

After Jack had hugged me, I didn't remember anything.

Did I...fall asleep against him?, I thought.

I felt my face heat up immensely with embarrassment. I groaned lightly at my stupidity and facepalmed.

I heard light whistling coming from another room. The tune was fairly repetitive, but the song was still pretty.

I opened my eyes and swung my legs over the side of the comfortable bed, stepping down onto the carpeted floor.

I opened the white wooden door slowly, and stepped out.

An Irishman wearing a grey flat cap was whistling softly and cracking eggs into a bowl filled with vanilla extract, flour, and cinnamon.

  "Very manly." I said abruptly.

  Jack turned to me, smiling contentedly, until he saw my hair. He snorted, trying to contain his childish laughter. He gave me another one of those mischievous smiles that would send any babysitter running.

  "Nice hair." he said smugly.

  "Nice gross, half solid pancake batter."

  Jack grabbed a whisk from off the nearby counter and began rapidly stirring the mixture.

  "What were you whistling?" I asked.

  Jack grinned slightly to himself. "Moongazer." was all he said.

  I furrowed my brow, but decided not to question it.

  He poured the tan batter into two seperate pans on a stove and let them cook for a minute.

  "Sleep well?" he asked, chuckling.

  I flushed bright red. The nightmare came back. "Um, yeah. Thanks." I mumbled.

  "No problem. Good ol' Irish hospita-" he stopped dead. He was staring at me.

  "What?" I asked. "Is there something on my face?"

  Jack frowned. "Where did you get that scar?" he asked.

  "What scar...?" I asked, running a finger over my cheek until I got to a spot near my jawline. I winced in pain as I touched it. There was what used to be a large cut. It wasn't there last night.

  "Where's your restroom?" I asked hurriedly.

  "Down the hall, second door on the right."

  I nodded thanks and rushed to the bathroom.

  I stared at the closed up scar on my face in the large mirror.

  I didn't dare look at my reflection in the eyes, for fear it would come alive like in my dream.

"Did you cut yourself in your sleep or something?" Jack asked humorously. I didn't laugh.

Seeing this, he matched my frowning expression. "Scars don't form overnight. So what happened?" he queried. I shook my head, silent.

"If you were planning on making pancakes that weren't burnt to a crisp, I'd suggest you go tend to them." I said quietly, lost in my own thoughts.

Jack pressed his lips into a thin line before nodding and heading back out to the kitchen, where the scent of burnt batter filled the air.

I continued to study the mark on my lower cheek.

I'll worry about this later, I thought.

Shaking my head, I followed Jack out into the pristine kitchen, where pancakes drizzled lightly in syrup sat on two paper plates on a dining table.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Jack said, sitting down in front of his plate, a child-like smile plastered on his face.

I couldn't help but grin. "Ok. Mornin'." I greeted, taking a seat across from him.

Eating with a friend is so much better than alone.

(Hey guys! So, um...yeah. I'm listening to Five Finger Death Punch as I write this, So that's a thing. I'll be more active for the next two or three days because my school is letting students out for conferences. Feel free to send me a message and comment on this story, because I adore you guys and love hearing your feedback. Thanks SO MUCH for over 200 reads, by the way!! Like I said, I adore each of you guys, and I wouldn't be this happy without you. So thanks. And I'll see you next chapter.)

Bye, guys. -Light