The Man In The Mirror

By: Georgia Le Carre

With a sigh, I rose from the bed and hobbled over to the window. Seven months ago I was still crawling on my hands and knees to get to it, so this was progress, and I was grateful for that.

I opened it to allow the cool autumn wind in. Leaning against the pane I inhaled deeply, and tried to put the sickening images out of my mind. It was so still and quiet I could hear my heart beating. There was a wedge of moon in the sky. It cast its ghostly blue light on the flat wild landscape and made it seem magical. I closed my eyes and remembered the first time I saw this scenery. I could not connect with its raw untamed nature, or its complete isolation.

I was not a country boy. The hustle and bustle of the city was in my blood.

And yet I could not, not buy this fortress. Some primal instinct would not let me walk away from it so I acquired it. I imagined keeping it for a few years, then divesting it for a profit. Little did I know it would become a place where I would hide like a wounded animal from the world.

The revving of a car engine in the distance jarred me out of my thoughts.

I opened my eyes and looked out, past the massive iron gates. I watched a bright red Porsche zoom up the hill. One by one the two gates swung open, and the car pulled up at the courtyard below. The passenger door was pushed open, and a pair of glittery heels landed on the cobble stones. It was followed by long, ivory legs.

Then my wife of nearly a decade lifted herself out.

She looked stunning in a silvery mini-dress. Waves of silky long blonde hair blew in the slight breeze as an intoxicated laugh bubbled from her lips and rang out into the quiet night. I watched as the man at the driver’s seat threw his door open and strolled over to her. He had dark hair, which he had slicked back, classic Mediterranean good looks. Dressed in an expensive suit. Something about the way he moved told me he’d never done an honest day’s work in his life. His life was spent servicing rich, lonely women.

Slamming the passenger door shut behind my wife, he thrust her roughly against the sleek metal and she immediately raised her knees and opened her legs wide. He pushed his hand between her thighs and after a few seconds, thrust it upwards so violently, her head jerked back. In the moonlight her mouth was a dark O of shock and pleasure in her ivory face.

It seemed almost impossible to think of her as Stanley’s only daughter, his Princess, the only real love of his life. He would have died for her. The day I married her, he cried and told me I had fulfilled his greatest dream.

The dark-haired man began to pump into her, fisting her so roughly it was as if he wanted to tear her apart, but her cries of pain mixed with pleasure rose like wings in the night air.

She’d finally found a man after her own heart.

Chapter 3


I stepped away from the window, feeling nothing. My only irritation was the show had wiped away whatever slim chance I had of finding sleep again. I stood by the bed, my shoulders hunched. Life was only bearable because of one thing.

Only one soul would be able to call back peace into my heart.

Fitting my mask on to my face and pushing my arms through a robe, I exited my room. Silently, I made my way from my tower, which was also the highest and most inaccessible part of the castle, and went across to the main part of the house. It took only about five minutes to arrive at the corridor that lead to my son’s room. I had just grabbed the handle of his door when the crashing sound in the hallway echoed in the empty silence of the great hall.

I let go of the handle and changed my destination.

Standing in the shadows at the top of the grand staircase, I saw my wife leaning against the wall, her body swayed as she tried to collect what remained of her senses. An antique bronze urn rolled on the floor.

Pushing herself away from the wall, she kicked off her shoes, before staggering her way towards the stairs. She climbed as though every step carried the risk of the ground giving way and sending her straight into a dark abyss. As I turned around to walk away the movement alerted her, and she swung her head in my direction. The shock of seeing me made her stumble backwards, her hands flailing, and just barely latching onto the banister at the last minute.

“Fuck!” she cursed, as she glared up at me.

I took another step towards my son’s room.

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