Shattering Crystals

Steam fogs up the mirror, blurring the view of myself. I use the back of my hand to wipe the water off the cold glass. I then shake my hand, water droplets hitting the tiled floor.

Looking at my reflection, my bare, exposed body, I wonder if someone will ever want me. If they will ever look at me and truly want me.

I see imperfections everywhere. Hips too bony, chest too small. I cover myself with a purple towel so I don’t have to look at it anymore.

I finger-comb my hair, cringing at the fact that my naturally oily hair is still a bit greasy. I pin it up and out of my face to prevent more zits.

I lean in closer to the mirror, wiping the droplets of water clinging to my eyelashes. That’s when I notice it.

My eyes are blue. They are fucking blue.

I blink a few times, as if it will change my eyes back to their normal brown, but it doesn’t. They stay the same dark blue color. This is insanity.

Then I realize that it could just be a trick of the light, the sky blue walls reflecting off of my eyes. But it can’t be. This has never happened before.

I look up at the lights on the ceiling. Have they been replaced? Maybe the lighting was altered, and now it just makes for some weird coloring. The lights, however, remain same as ever.

I decide that it’s just my imagination. I start drying my hair with the towel, squeezing out all the excess water. Then I shake it out over my shoulders. And things get weird again.

Normally, after a shower, my hair is wavy, and hard to straighten. But right now, it’s perfectly straight – and long. It falls to the small of my back, instead of just brushing my shoulders as usually. And instead of being dark, dark brown, it’s black with a tint of blue. I stare at my reflection, wondering what the fuck?

I don’t have to see it for long, because then the world around me disappears.

I’m dragged into a new world, a vision. It should scare me, should horrify me. But there’s something about this sight calms me, even if it’s against my will.

I can see it perfectly - a cave, where everything is constructed out of ice and water. It is a small cave, with a few stalagmites and stalactites, or whatever they are called. A small pool of water lies in the far back of the cave, lit up as though the water itself was glowing.

The air is cool and crisp, but it is not uncomfortable. The cave has a strange smell, one that I can’t put into words. It smells like… water. But there’s another scent underneath it, something close to being sweet, but not quite.

I look around this cave, the ice glittering. Next to me is the wall. I can feel it sucking in the heat, but it’s not cold. I wonder if the surface feels like regular ice. I reach out to touch it and flinch.

The hand is not mine.

And just like that, the cave is gone. I’m staring back into the mirror. My eyes are still blue and my hair is still long. I immediately look down at my hands. They are flawed, scarred, mine.

Whatever just happened… I don’t even know. I quickly finish drying myself and put on my clothes. I run to my room. Maybe there, things will make sense. Maybe I just inhaled too many hair product fumes.

I shiver at bit at the temperature change. I dump my dirty clothes and the towel in a laundry basket in the corner of my room. I sit down on my bed, facing the mirror. I still don’t look like myself.

Now I decide that there is definitely something going on here. Am I just seeing (and hearing) things? I could ask my mother. She could take one look at me and tell me if my eyes are actually a different color, if my hair has miraculously grown a foot longer. Something tells me that I shouldn’t, though. That this is my business, and I have to fix it.

That something also tells me to put my hands together. I do so, and I still don’t know why. Then the temperature of my hands drops significantly. Like I’m outside during the winter, and I forgot my gloves. It’s different, though. Because just like in the cave, the cold doesn’t feel bad. However, it does freak me out.

An object appears in my hands, slowing materializing out of thin air. Its surface is impossibly smooth and flawless. My heart speeds up, and I can hear my blood pulsing in my eardrums. This is not right.

The thing looks like a diamond, but it’s far too big – it’s about four inches long. It’s cut like a diamond, sort of. I can’t remember what this specific cut is called…

My instincts tell me to drop it, to run away. It is unknown, and the unknown is dangerous. But the other part of me is curious, wanting to know what it is, what it does. It’s also afraid to find out.

A crystal. Your name was Diana Crystal for a reason.

The voice is back, and now it just seems all connected. And maybe I should go tell someone. Maybe I need help. I take deep breaths, attempting to calm my speeding heart. There has to be an explanation for this.

I wonder what Jesse would think if he knew all about this. Would he take me for some psycho? Would he love me anyways? Thinking about him relaxes me; it brings the happiness to my mind…

A door slams somewhere downstairs, breaking the calm and causing me to jump. The… crystal slips out of my hands. It falls to the ground, knocking against the brass leg of my bed. It shatters like glass.

I immediately lean down to pick up the shards. Perhaps I’m just dreaming. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow morning, with a good morning text from Jesse. Everything will be fine, and life will be good.

A shard of the crystal slices through my thumb, reminding me that this is reality. I reflexively jerk my hand away, wincing at the stinging pain. I lift my hand up for examination.

A drop of blood oozes from the cut and I whisper to myself, “You’re not crazy, you’re not.”

Now if only I could make myself believe it.