 Like the back of my hand as the sang goes, she'd made literate of the sang, for that surface of her hand had become a familiar sight as the days passed. The topside of her hands, during class, while the teacher's voice echoed mindlessly at the front of the room, she'd stare at the topside of her hands that she kept laying on top of her desk. Her mind, galaxies away, she was numb to the noise, numb to it all. To the words thrown her way, to the shoulders she received in the hallways, all of it. She stopped caring long ago, and she couldn't comprehend why they still did. Waylin, she was noticed. Waylin turned her dark gray eyes from her hands, which were laid flat on her desk to her teacher. The teacher gave her a sharp pay attention, and continued on with the exercise like always. She went back to staring at her hands, and fell back into the gray oblivion where one's notice was non-existent. There was a unit of chemistry that she'd come to understand. The social world was an invisible circle. At the center, the nucleus of that circle were the people considered to be attractive. Outside that group was a thin line of geniuses, who people only respected in hopes of getting something in the future in return. After that, was a scattered group of beings that were targeted for bullying. Waylin was not part of any of those groups. She was on the outside of the circle, in the abyss of gray fog. It was the haze that no one cared about. She was somewhere in that fog, unconsidered and unobtrusive. She used to simply observe the inner circle, try and understand what made her so dissimilar in comparison to them. She eventually gave up, and fell in love with the pros of having to worry about nothing other than herself. The empty canvas of her sketchbook paper was all she needed. She didn't need to see the real world when she could create alternative universes of her own. She never pays attention. Someone said, Yeah, she's probably stupid. There's definitely something wrong with her. Waylin favored darker clothing, over lighter. It made her feel warmer in spite of the fact that she was always cold, even when the sun lashed its golden fingers on her for hours. Her pale skin would still rise if she removed her black, light sweater. Class field trip. Those unusual words caught Waylin's attention. She held her medium length, dark brown hair out of her face to look at the teacher. We will all be visiting Thed Lake next week to observe the water quality in comparison to roadside streams. Minutes later, permission slips were handed out. The next day, Waylin handed in hers and a week later she was riding on a bright yellow bus with her classmates toward the location. Due to the fact that it was winter, the bus windows were coated with white frost on the outside and the blurred trees they passed were loaded with fresh snow. She kept to the window with her legs pulled up, her knees on the back of the seat in front of her. She could faintly make out her reflection in the window and was fascinated by the dimension within the glass. The ability to clone reality was amazing. You know Thed Lake said backwards, is Death Lake? Someone said. That's stupid and cheesy, someone else responded. What a dumb name, she thought, besides if it had any actual meaning they wouldn't be off on a field trip to it. Most of the day went as she'd expected, boring and pointless. The only thing that had caught her attention was the giant reflection of the sky and trees around that the frozen lake portrayed. While the class was taking samples from a near pond, Waylin wandered towards shore and stared down at the frozen hydration. She tapped her toe testingly on its surface, gradually adding pressure until she was leaning all of her weight onto its unfalting surface. She stepped on to it, nothing, not a single crack. She took a few steps forward and yet it remained stable. She watched her twin under the ice as she traveled further out onto the lake. Her classmates faded voices becoming no more than a murmur in the distance. There was a vast cold sucking noise followed by a sudden noise that resembled thunder, the ice below her breaking away in an instant. The sound of her scream split the still air like a gunshot in a library. She watched as her reflection suddenly disappeared and she was being sucked into the liquid mirror that waited below the ice's devious surface. Unbearable coldness covered her entire body, pinching her skin like millions of tiny fingernails soaking her clothes and making them heavy. She pinned her pale lips closed as she felt herself being tossed around as she was sucked under the ice. She tried to swim up for air but all she could feel was the hard surface above. She clawed desperately at the ice, her lungs aching and her body burning for air. It felt as if her chest was being repeatedly stabbed. Her joints went stiff and she was suddenly sinking. She could see someone standing over the ice but she couldn't tell who for their figure was too blurred to make out. She was suddenly seeing the world from behind a different perspective and it dizzied her. Time itself stopped and she could hear everything. She could hear the creaking noises of the heavy ice above as it gracefully hummed to itself like a massive whale. Her ears and bones began to ache as the water pressure squeezed at her body the lower she sank. Then, she couldn't hear anything. She could only feel the everlasting cold. Yet, she was no longer drowning. Her perspective had risen with her final breath and she was as light as air. She was staring through the eyes of the ice watching as her classmates stared in horror from the shores. She stared through the eyes of their reflections. Her body was already beginning to decay at the bottom of the lake. The kids were sent home and Whalen was left alone, trapped inside the ice. People were sent to retrieve her body but were unsuccessful. She watched as two of the last people searching for her body spoke amongst themselves before they left. Why do you think she died? One of them asked, scratching at the back of his head. The second worker shrugged. Accidents happened. What in odd saying? For months, no one visited the lake besides passing animals that licked at or scurried across its surface. As spring came and the ice melted, her vision became blurry with the water. Then she was staring at the face of a jogger forced to clone its every movements. She moved into their glasses and became the reflection of their eyes. She could make them blink if she wanted to. The jogger went home to their bathroom to shower off and she leapt into their bathroom mirror. As they shaved their legs in front of her, she decided to test something. She made them add a slight bit of extra pressure to their leg and like fragile cheese, their skin broke open. Blood trickled along the side of their leg. They cursed and dabbed it up with their towel. Wayland moved into the glass of the jogger's bedroom window and watched them as they slept. She moved into the silver of their fork as they ate breakfast. Then the faint glimmer of their nails as they went to work. She became their computer screen and watched them work all day. She observed their lives for weeks, eventually considering herself their friend. That's what friends were, right? Someone who knew your every aspect of life. Then on the last night as they were showering off, she no longer became their reflection, but her own. Before she died, they stared in shock at their mirror as they stepped out of their shower when they no longer saw themselves. She continued to mimic their movements, still holding the ability to make them do something in a small way by her will. After a while, the jogger down some pills and went to sleep. The next morning, when they found it still was not their own reflection in the mirror, they began to get nervous. Not wanting to admit psychotics, they resumed their day as normal. At the end of the day, they once went again to shower. When they stepped out, Weyland was standing still, her green eyes being the only moving part on her body as she tracked their every movement. The jogger suspiciously eyed the mirror, yet mindlessly continued their daily routine of shaving their legs after they'd gotten out of the shower. Hello, my friend. Weyland said finally, a small smile upturning her dead lips. They stumbled back in shock, putting their back to the wall and staring wide-eyed at Weyland. You? You spoke? Yes. Weyland made them pick the razor back up that they dropped on the ground. She made them continue to shave their legs. She made the razor dig in too deep, causing a long cut along their calf. Accidents happen, she said. The next morning, she made them miss their breakfast when they went to pick up their scrambled egg with their fork, instead plunging into their own hand. Accidents happen, Weyland said. Weyland had fallen in love for the jogger. In the amount of time she watched them, how could she not? However, she'd spent her entire life watching others happy. It was interesting to watch them frightened or pained. At work, she made them accidentally knock over the coffee machine filled with boiling coffee onto their arm. When they took a shower that night, she made them take seven pills instead of three. The jogger was losing their mind. Why could no one else see this stranger in the mirror? Why was this stranger making them hurt themselves? That morning, it was snowing out. The car windows were iced over, but the jogger was running late for work and didn't take the time to let them defrost. As they drove along the slick road, Weyland made the jogger take a sharp left turn as they approached a bridge, sending the car speeding into a frozen lake. The ice shattered and the car plunged under the water. Weyland made the jogger lock the doors and roll the windows down. She made the jogger keep her seatbelt on and drown. Before the jogger died, she asked her reflection. Why? Accidents happened, Weyland said. Weyland waited in the lake until a student from a near school came down to the water to gaze in wonder at the car under the surface, and Weyland became their sunglasses, blinking in sync with them.