We all thought it was a myth…We had heard the rumors and we didn’t believe because it was too ridiculous to be true….but this time was different. I turned to the mirror and said it three times. We all laughed as nothing happened, thinking we had proved the silly rumor wrong. I was secretly relieved that nothing had gone wrong. Although I thought it was a myth, a part of me always feared what would become of us if it wasn’t. I turned from the mirror and walked towards my laughing friends, we proceeded to walk downstairs to watch a movie in the living room. Halfway through one of the fifteen Friday the 13th movies we heard it. A crash upstairs. This wasn’t just something fell, it was loud…as if someone had taken a vase and smashed it on the wood floor with all of the power in their arms. We all jumped. I announced everyone was coming with me to check it out, there was no way I was going alone. As we walked up the stairs, they moaned beneath our feet, making me flinch with every squeak. Raising the tension with each step we reached the top of the stairs. As we walked into my room we saw it, the mirror broken on the floor. Shattered into a thousand pieces. There was no way it was a coincidence. There was no way this could have just happened. I turned to everyone expecting someone to take the blame and snicker admitting it was a joke but everyone was pale and worried. I walked into the bathroom and looked closer at the shattered fragments. There was blood on some of the pieces. That’s when I saw it, the glistening trail of blood leading to the shower. I went to the curtain and whipped it open to see her. A bloody figure, veins predominant on her body. She turned her head to me and the last thing I saw were her eyes, black as could be like a bottomless hole an endless earth. I fell into them and when I awakened I was looking over the scene, looking down at myself covered in blood along with my friends sprawled across the room. Our bodies all battered and bloodied. The walls splattered with deep red and the police walking in past the yellow tape marked crime scene, disgusted. The sobbing of my mother in the background of the flashes of the cameras and hushed tones of concerned police officers. The mirror was no longer shattered but perfect in its place above the sink; I went to it, not seeing my reflection but the bloodied girl from the shower laughing with her dark eyes. “You shouldn’t have called me” she said “Now you’ll be with me forever” laughing manically as she disappeared into the silver mirror. They never found my “murderer” because she wasn’t alive; she only came around when her name was spoken. “Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary”