Chương 162: Chapter 162
The mirrors were in her stomach. Always there, hidden under layers of skin, wrapping around her insides like cold metal. They were sharp, thin, smooth, and hungry.
Marina was eight years old. She had bright blue eyes and pale skin, the kind of pale that made her look like she never saw the sun. Her hair hung down in long, straight strands, always messy, but it didn't matter. The mirrors inside her made everything not matter. They were inside her. Eating her.
It started when she was younger, before she even remembered. But now, at eight, the hunger was so bad that it hurt to think. Every meal was the same. Her mom would give her a plate of food, and Marina would sit at the table with her fork, taking small bites, trying not to feel the emptiness in her stomach. But every time she swallowed, the mirrors would eat it. Every single bite, gone, absorbed by those mirrors that lived inside her, taking more than her body could ever hold.
It wasn't fair. She could eat an entire plate of food, but it felt like she hadn't eaten a thing. The mirrors didn't care. They just wanted more. They never stopped eating.
Marina's mother, Janet, never noticed. She was too busy with her own life, her own thoughts, her own problems. She'd watch Marina eat, always praising her for finishing everything on the plate, not knowing the truth.
The mirrors would get greedy. If Marina ate too much, they would get angry, gnashing in her stomach like teeth on glass. The pain would start as a dull ache, then grow sharper, like glass scraping against glass, until Marina could barely move. Sometimes, she'd vomit. Sometimes, she'd collapse onto the kitchen floor, her skin pale and clammy, sweating. But it didn't matter. The mirrors would always ask for more.
One evening, Marina sat at the dinner table. The plate in front of her was full of spaghetti and meatballs, her favorite meal. Janet had made it extra special, adding extra cheese and sauce. It smelled good, but Marina didn't feel hungry. She never felt hungry anymore. Not in the way that other kids did. She just felt empty, like there was a space inside her that couldn't be filled.
Janet smiled at her, sitting across the table. "Eat, Marina. You've got to grow strong." She cut her own food, unaware of the terror in Marina's chest.
Marina picked up her fork. She poked a meatball, then shoved it into her mouth. The moment she swallowed, she could feel it. The mirrors. Hungry, always hungry, scraping at her insides, sucking down everything she had.
She took another bite. Then another. The more she ate, the emptier she became. She felt like she was fading, like the food didn't belong to her anymore. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table. Her breathing grew shallow.
"Are you okay?" Janet asked, looking up from her own plate.
Marina's eyes were wide, filled with something that wasn't fear, but something worse. Something that felt like she was losing herself bit by bit. She nodded quickly, but her voice caught in her throat. The mirrors wanted more. They always wanted more. She couldn't keep up.
Her stomach rumbled. Or, it felt like it rumbled. It was hard to tell sometimes, when the mirrors started gnawing at her insides. She clenched her stomach tight, holding back the pain.
"I'll just finish this last bite," Marina said softly, but she couldn't finish. She couldn't stop.
Janet's voice was gentle. "You've eaten enough. You don't want to get sick again, do you?"
Marina forced a smile. She didn't want to disappoint her mother. She didn't want to let anyone know what was really going on. No one could understand. Not even Janet. But the mirrors—they understood. They understood hunger.
Marina stood up quickly, knocking the chair back. She ran to the bathroom and locked the door. She looked at herself in the mirror, her thin face staring back at her, eyes wide, wild. She had eaten. She had eaten so much. But she was still starving. She was always starving.
She pressed her hands to her stomach, feeling the cold smoothness of the mirrors inside her. The glass was sharp, like shards, cutting into her, making her sick. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't escape them.
The pain started again, that gnawing ache. Her body didn't know how to fight it. She fell to her knees on the cold tile floor, gasping for air, the room spinning around her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, but the mirrors were too strong. They took everything.
Her hands trembled as she tried to hold herself together. She could feel them in her stomach, scraping against her insides. The mirrors were breaking her down, piece by piece. She didn't know how much longer she could last.
She stood shakily, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her face was gaunt, her cheeks hollow. The mirrors had taken more than they should have. She was so thin, so fragile. It felt like she was disappearing. Like she wasn't real anymore. The hunger was all that was left.
"Marina?"
It was Janet's voice. Soft, worried.
Marina turned, wiping the tears from her face. She couldn't let her mother see her like this. Not again.
"I'm fine," Marina whispered, but the mirrors inside her knew better. They could feel the hunger growing inside, pushing against her ribs, making her skin feel tight. She was breaking. She was becoming nothing.
She slowly walked back to the kitchen. Janet was sitting at the table, her hands folded in front of her. She was waiting, like she always did. She didn't know how much worse it had gotten. How much worse it would get. Marina didn't want to eat. But she knew she had to.
Her hands shook as she picked up the fork again. The spaghetti was still there, sitting on the plate. She took another bite, trying to ignore the mirrors inside her. Trying to ignore the glass scraping against her insides. The hunger was too much. It was too strong. It was too big for her to fight.
As the food slid down her throat, the mirrors inside her felt it, felt the food, and they took it. They devoured it. They consumed everything. And Marina was left with nothing.
Her stomach growled again, demanding more. She took another bite. Then another.
It didn't matter. The mirrors would never stop. They would never be full. Marina couldn't be full. Not anymore.
Her hands gripped the edge of the table as she tried to steady herself. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't keep fighting them. The mirrors would always win. They had already won.
Janet watched her from across the table, her smile fading as she saw Marina's thin, trembling hands. "Marina," she said, voice full of worry. "You need to stop."
Marina looked at her mother, but she couldn't speak. She couldn't explain. How could she? How could anyone understand?
She looked at her plate, the food that would never fill her. The mirrors had taken everything. They were inside her, and they would never stop.
As Marina stared at the food in front of her, she knew. There was nothing left. The mirrors had eaten it all.
And soon, they would eat her too.
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