As a few minutes passed I found enough strength to move my feet and hands and eventually pull myself up from the cold surface. The machine was still on function and clothes rotated in a clockwise pattern inside it. The mirror which was now reflected the wall in front of it seemed harmless and less ominous. Although I wasn't sure if I had developed the phobia of mirrors I avoided looking inside it and somehow made my way to my room.
Locking the door from inside, I slumped against it and buried my face in my hands. The little ooze of water I have felt around my eyes earlier streamed out of them and down the length of my cheeks. I couldn't contain it anymore now. Everything felt like a spilled glass of wine on white cloth.
