{author's note: idk why but this isn't letting me change the margin to the left...sorry it's center!!}

*

There is no pain here. There is something else, though. He had ran through a three story house and shattered all the mirrors. He had hoped they would not be able to remember his face. Shards of glass are scattered on the wood-paneled flooring and covered each stair to the attic. Each room is dark, musty and cold. It is like an old book come to life. Books and portraits of the long dead cover every inch of wallpaper. Candles flicker dancing shadows on the staircase.

He has forgotten one mirror.

He climbs the two flights of stairs, stopping at every mirror he sees fearfully hoping they are not shattered well enough. He smashes them each again until there is nothing left but the frame behind it.

The ladder to the attic is rickety and untrustworthy. He climbs it, pushing open the attic door and crawling inside. There is a single mirror at the end of the attic, and there is an oblong box below it. Candles surround the oblong box, and as he approaches it fear consumes him as he is unable to open the lid.

He gazes into the very last mirror, and is taken back by what he sees. He opens his mouth, and what greets him are long, jagged teeth that pierce his bottom lip if he doesn't open wide enough. He calmly begins to pull out the two front teeth and immediately they all start crumbling and falling a part. He spits pieces of blood and teeth into his hands.

A pressure is felt within his face, and when he looks in the mirror again, his entire lower jaw is almost completely detached and in its place is a gaping black hole.

He tries to scream, but he cannot.

He punches the mirror with all his might, the shards of glass fall onto the oblong box which is now open. Inside the box, he makes eye contact with a dead-eyed, grey, toothless corpse of himself...

Roy...

*

"Roy..."

"Mmm..."

"ROY."

"Uh...w-what?" He sat up disoriented and faced MacKenzie who was already dressed for the day.

"Good morning...er, afternoon."

Roy rubbed his eyes.

"I didn't wanna wake you up but you were making weird noises."

"Oh."

"It's twelve thirty. I'm off to watch the kids at one."

"That's right," Roy mumbled, reaching for his shirt. "You're a...nanny now."

"Yeah," shrugged MacKenzie.

"So why don't you ask if the hospital will hire you back?"

"They've been laying off people for the longest time. I really doubt it."

"No other caregiver jobs around here? It's a big city. There's gotta be something."

"I guess I gotta keep searching."

"Job hunting?" Roy grinned.

"Possibly," MacKenzie smirked. "I can bring you home and I can come back later and we can do dinner or something."

"Let's do dinner."

"Let's do it."

"If you'd like."

"I'd like."

Roy couldn't help but grin as he shut the door behind him to his apartment. It was quite a large grin; it was almost as if he was holding in a burst of laughter. He just felt so giddy. Despite the disturbing dream he had, it was pushed to the back of his mind and he focused on other things.

He kind of just wandered around the apartment at first. He wasn't sure what to do with the time to kill. He didn't have the concentration to read anything, and it was quite evident that MacKenzie or someone else had thoroughly cleaned his apartment while he was away.

He showered, shaved his face, and slicked his hair back for a change. As he looked in the mirror, he actually felt decent. That was a rare occurance nowadays. He actually didn't feel gross. He usually felt gross.

Roy then remembered that before he had left for the train station, Dade had given him his telephone number. That was right, he wanted Roy to call when he had gotten home safe.

He wondered if he should mention MacKenzie or keep quiet, but he just felt like talking about it to someone.

He found himself grinning again as the dial tone continued to ring.

There was a pause on the other line.

"H-hello?" To Roy's surprise, it was an unfamiliar voice.

"Hi...is, uh, is Dade home?"

Another pause.

"Who...is calling, may I ask."

"I'm Roy," he said.

"I see."

There was a rustle on the other end of the line as if the phone was being passed. Dade answered back.

"Roy?"

"Hey! What's up? Who was that?"

"That was...my dad."

"Harold? Huh. I haven't seen him in years. How are you?"

"Y'know I was gonna try to find a way to get ahold of your number but...I prayed you'd call soon anyway."

"Uh, yeah. Dade. What's doing on?"

There was uneasiness in Dade's voice.

"Dade," Roy said firmly.

Silence again.

"Dahlia..." Dade's voice cracked. "She..."

Roy suddenly felt very sick. "What's going on?"

"She got into an accident on the way back from the train station."

Roy's heart sank into his chest. An overwhelming feeling of dread flooded over him.

"Huh?" His response barely was audible.

"She failed to negotiate a curve. She rolled the car."

"Is she..."

"She isn't responding right now."

"Oh..."

"She might not make it."

"Oh..." Roy whimpered.

"Her neck is broken. There's internal bleeding," Dade choked back sobs.

Roy gulped. He didn't know what to say. His hands shook so bad the phone nearly fell to the floor.

"Um..."

"I'm just sayin', she might not be here when y' get back."

Tears ran down Roy's face. "I'm...I'm sorry."

"We need your prayers right now."

Roy nodded, but he knew Dade wouldn't know that.

"We just need your prayers."

"Okay..."

"I know you can't come back right now but...this might be it."

"I see..."

"I'll call you back with updates."

Roy recited his number. "It's gotta be okay," he whispered.

He dropped the phone without saying goodbye as the line went dead.

This is all my fucking fault.