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Reflection  

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Reflection By James Pelham The noise was deafening despite the apparent silence in the room, the high-pitched squeal in his mind propelling pain through his limp body and when opening his dark eyes sending fresh agony into his disfigured face. Broken shards of the shattered mirror lay around him, blood oozed through the deep gashes in the top of his head, dying his greying brown hair a thick murky red; and as the mirror his life lay on the cold hard bathroom tiles in pieces. I couldn't help thinking as I lay there what would have happened if I stayed, if I hadn't left my parents some thirty years ago, where I would be now. Not lying on the floor waiting to die I'm at least sure of that. Finding little comfort in these thoughts I lay still, just waiting, as the warm blood trickled down my shivering neck, I looked down at the...

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