Wrath.

The embers of her cigarette brightened as she took a drag. Blue smoke pooled at her full lips and swam out, taking shapes of demons and angels alike as it floated upwards into the cold still morning. She sighed and crushed the cigarette onto the glass ashtray. It wasn't going to be good day. She got up, ignoring the protest of her muscles and will, and walked, no, drifted towards the wash room.

The mirror reflected a beautiful woman, maybe in need of a good nights sleep but beautiful nonetheless. She brushed her teeth and turned on the shower at the same time, cringing at the chill of the icy cold water. Taking a shower was not an option that day, she was allergic to the cold water and she knows it. The splash of the cold water on her face was electric, it coursed through her skin and into her bloodstream. It travelled into her brain and demolished whatever fatigue or sleepiness that lingered there. She took a quick glance into the mirror before she left the bathroom. This time, the reflection was no more a beautiful woman but a handsome man. He sighed as he entered his bedroom.

His life is a continuous cycle of the same items carefully planned and executed. A routine, a boring, dull, lustreless life. However, it was the only way he had survived. There was no way he could have gotten to his current position, and being able to accomplish a few notable feats, if he had listened to what his heart told him. Never. After he got dressed, he walked out of his house to see only his driver there; he was trying to get a stain off the car. With a wave of his hand, the driver started the car and drove below the speed limit.

"Where to, sir?" He thought of it and then made his decision.
"The sea. I need some fresh air."

He gritted his teeth as his driver swerved the car at a junction. He hated speed. To him, the thrill seekers or so called adrenaline junkies were better off dead. His phone rang. He ignored it and looked out of the window instead. He saw the kids running around and dreamily thought about his past. Those were the days where nothing really mattered except for having fun. His family was not the typical loving one; the very opposite to say the least but he got through. He knocked on his temples lightly and just like that, the memories floated out of his head like mist on a cold winter morning.

He found himself unable to avert his eyes from his reflection on the tinted window. He saw himself looking back at him for a few seconds and then... A woman winking her eyes and grinning slyly. His eyes widened and he felt his throat tighten, then it all disappeared.

"Drive faster you moron. What is this? You trying to show the world you're a designated driver or something? Step on it!" She leaned back and scoffed. So much for adrenaline junkies better off being dead. From the corner of her eyes she saw a man's terrified face in the tinted window. Another sly grin and she rolled down the window, the wind from the outside surging into the car.

"Sir? We're here." She thought of strangling the driver for calling her sir and waking her up from her deep sleep but thought against it. It was not his fault that he could not differentiate a woman chained in a man's body. She grumbled and stepped out of the car yawning lightly. Where was she? Ah, of course. The bastard's favourite place. The sea.

"Go get something to eat and stop staring at me as if I'm going to shoot myself. Fucking take your leave. Now." The driver was once confused by this metamorphosis of personalities his employer undergoes but after a year or two, it became somewhat amusing. He tossed the keys up into the air, opened the car door, snatched it from mid-air and slid into the metal cocoon in one swift motion. He never looked back as he drove away. He of all people knew what his employer is capable of doing once he switched personalities. Oh yes, of course he knew. He was there and every single time, he gets an unmistakable chill up his spine.

She stretched and pondered on what to do now that she was stuck by an isolated seaside. He intrigues her, what could a man possibly do by a seaside? That was when she saw a homeless person wandering around. And her fingers tingled and she started to salivate, her heart raced as adrenaline raged in her boiling blood. The sanity she had left was only to think: This must be my day.

He woke up with his head pounding and with a very obscene taste in his mouth. His muscles were on fire and then, as he struggled to get up, realised that his ankle was sprained. He frowned and sat down heavily. His eyes were cloudy and when it cleared up, he saw the sea in front of him; the sun slowly being drowned by the horizon and when he turned around, the body of a man, half consumed, hung on a tree in a spread eagle position. His fingers shivered uncontrollably as it travelled towards his mouth and traced a line on his lower lip. The finger stayed there; chiefly because his brain was telling him that he could not handle the truth and also because he refused to believe it. A moment passed, the finger left his lip and his field of vision was slowly brought upon his finger. He did not even have the time to scream.

A few hours later, he found himself lying on a very comfortable leather seat of a car; he assumed that it was his. His driver, realising he was awake, decelerated the car an approximately forty miles an hour.

"Rough day, sir?"
"What the hell happened? Tell me what the hell happened!" He was slightly hysterical, somehow he felt that anybody would if only they went through what he did.
"What do you mean what happened? I wasn't even there, sir. After you failed to answer my calls, I went back to the sea and saw you lying unconscious on sand."
"What about the dead person?!" The driver fell silent and kept his eyes on the road. He sighed, lit a cigarette and smiled as he felt the nicotine doing it's job.
"Sir, I do not mean any disrespect by saying this but I feel that you have some issues you need taking care off. You know, on the inside? That's the fucking devil you have in you." The street lights shone on his face as if mocking him, laughing at him in his time of need.

As soon as he got home he ran in and locked the door behind him; his driver feeling the least offended, walked away from his house to a nearby grocery shop and bought a bottle of whiskey. It was the only way he could bear what he saw.

Cold sweat broke and he couldn't stop himself from shivering. How was he capable of that? He tried to see himself tearing the flesh off another human being and failed; he had to rush to the bathroom and vomit all of it out. What he saw in the toilet bowl further increased his nausea; a lone finger, half digested and worst of all, it came out from his mouth.

It was only then that he felt a sense of resentment and utmost anger towards whatever that has been causing this, his hands were balled into fists and his face flushed. He took a chair and slammed the legs onto the floor in front of a full length mirror and sat down heavily. He proceeded to glare at his reflection. Nothing happened and after an hour he thought of something else. He was going to draw the demon into the open and stop him from causing anymore harm.

"I'm not leaving this spot until I get answers. I mean it. Even if I'm going to have to chain myself, I'm not leaving." He knew that it was somewhat idiotic to talk to a mirror but he had to try. He had to. However after a few hours of mindless babbling and empty threats, his attention started to evaporate and he even found himself dreaming. That was the very moment he heard it, he might have imagined it but he was sure he heard it. A minute sound. A scoff.

"Who's there? I demand you to come out!"
"I swear... You watch to much movies. You sound just like a bad actor reading an equally bad script." The voice seem to echo of the walls of his room.
"Show yourself!"
"Where the fuck are you looking?" Two claps coming from the mirror. His body instinctively took a step back. "Oh my, scared you didn't I? Tell me, do I owe you an apology?"
"You... You're the one from the car window! What... Why are you doing this?!" In the mirror was a fine looking lady, maybe in need of a good night's sleep, she was sitting down on the chair with her legs crossed and a smile that never leaves her face.
"Bingo. What do you mean why I am doing this? You do know who I am don't you?"
"No, if I was such a fucking genius, I wouldn't be asking you these questions." The fact that he was so calm remained a mystery to him. He should be scared, he knew it but somehow his mind and body did not register this woman as a threat.
"You're pretty slow, I have to admit." She produced a cigarette from the vast amount of creases on her purple dress and lit it. Blue smoke swam around as she started to speak. "I am apart of you; believe me, I would rather not be, I am your manifestation of anger. Basically, I am apart of you; again, I rather not be."
"That has got to be the biggest joke of the year. You cannot be me. You don't even look like me. And I am not an angry person, I have never been." He was confident of everything he said until he saw her face. She wore an expression of sincere sympathy, as if mourning for a lost loved one.
"Have you ever wondered why, as a child, you kept forgetting? You never remembered the abuse your father gave you every single day, you never remembered the traumatising bits of your life."
"What does that have to do with anything? My past is none of your concern"
"Oh, believe me, it does. Your past was what shaped me, created me. I am your vessel, you everyday hate is channeled into me. And of course, it is the nature of every container to burst, to explode when too much the pressure inside is too overwhelming. That is the time I surface to empty the container. Do you understand?"
"No, I don't fucking understand. My anger is not to a point where I go around fucking eating people. I do not... I..." He was at a lost for words. Somehow what she said made all the sense in the world.

The woman in the mirror then stood up and stretched. She walked towards the reflection of the cupboard and opened it, shifting through what looked like an extensive collection of woman's garments. She then closed it and grinned.

"The thing is... I've somewhat taken a liking to the world. It's so much more exciting than what I perceive when I'm in you..."
"What are you getting to?" He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
"You really are slow witted. I'm saying that I want to be the one that is controlling. I want to be you."
"What?! No!" He was frightened. Truly. He looked at the door and thought of running away. This was a big mistake.
"Do you really think that running away will make a difference? You are weak, if I want to take control right now, I could but, me being such a courteous lady, I do have the need to ask for your thoughts on this." She blew on her fingernails and polished them on her dress. She cleared her throat. "So? Can I?"

By the time the whiskey bottle lost half of it's content, the driver was already drunk. He has never been able to tolerate alcohol, not once in his life could he leave from a party sober. In his state, he heard the door of his employer's house being opened and he stood up, shakily, to greet him. He put the bottle down and walked towards him.

"Did you settle it?" His vision was hazy due to the alcohol, he misinterpreted his employer's grin as a normal, happy one.
"Oh yes, we don't have to worry about any demons anymore, my friend."
"That's good to hear, sir, you really scare me everytime you get into your crazy state." There was a malicious gleam in his employer's eyes.
"Sir?"

*END*

A/N: And there you fucking have it, I told you I'll finish it after Anatomy exam. God, I am far from happy, it just misses something... Maybe because I changed the theme halfway through the story? Meh. Feedback is needed here, more than ever.