Literature
Mystical Chalet Story. 2. ...Don't be sad!
“...Don't be sad!”
She drew in a sharp breath and jerked away from the glass. Her heart was beating unevenly, her ears were noisy.
“This can't be happening. I'm... I'm sane. I've been treated. It's all behind me.”
Somewhere inside, the cold voice of logic was telling her that fatigue, stress, snowfall outside the window - all of these things could easily play havoc with perception. But another voice was already growing inside - a quieter, more uncertain voice, the one that whispered to her at night that she didn't fully remember how things really were.
She blinked, shifting her gaze back to the glass. Only herself was reflected there now, tired, pale, with a tense line of lips. A lump lodged in her throat, as if from a question she hadn't fully swallowed.
With a sudden movement, she ripped the glove from her hand. The gold ring chilled her skin. Why was it on her? She hadn't worn it since... since... Since when? Her thoughts stumbled, hanging in the air. More than before