"You deny me," said the mirror, voice fainter than ever, yet devoid of emotion. "Yet you cannot lie. It follows, then, that you are blind. None capable of sight - of objective analysis of one's own actions - could deny that yours are those of a monster."

Abby snorted, the throbbing in her chest fading slowly. "A monster? You must not know what the really bad people are capable of." She walked over to the mirror, though she didn't remember standing. Once near, she pressed her hand against the glass, brushing the reflection of her cheek. It was cold. "Sometimes, I'm weak," she admitted, "That much is true. And weakness often leads to mistakes. But those alone don't define me. I'm not always an awful person. There's still enough of the old, happy me left to care about people. If there wasn't, I would have left that little girl on her own."

Abby wiped at her eyes. "You are fickle," said the mirror, "In this moment, you may believe there's hope. But the darkness is never far. It has taken you before, and will do so again. You are helpless to stop it."

"Maybe so," said Abby, "But I guess the darkness always fades eventually, if you let it. Maybe I should stop staring into it and look at what I can see. I understand now I'm [i]not[/i] blind. I just have to try a bit harder to keep my eyes on what's ahead."

"So be it," said the mirror, "Then I, too, shall change."

The mirror cracked, breaking into a multitude of shards. They flew outward, toward me - no, [i]past[/i] me. As I turned my head to follow the first of them, they formed a dome around me. But even once I was completely enclosed, the light never faded. In fact, it grew brighter, engulfing everything around me.