"This is not my face," the man muttered. He rubbed his chin and let the stubble scratch his fingertips as the stranger in the mirror copied his actions. The mirror-man picked up a pair of scissors. 

Snip. Patches of dark brown hair twirled down like misshapen snowflakes. 

Snip. Freshly cut eyelashes joined the unsettling display. 

Snip, snip, snip. Warm chunks of flesh decorated the sink with splatters in the colour of violence. 

The man smiled. Blood dripped from the deep cuts in his flesh; over his nose, over his lips. It stained his bright, white teeth with crimson. 

"Much better."