Mirror Image, Part 1,

1

I take a breath.

One deep breath.

And then I hold it for a brief second before letting the air slip back out from between my lips.

I open my eyes.

Light.

It hurts.

So my eyes are squeezed tightly shut once more.

My head whispers for me to go back to bed.

But I couldn’t.

Not until I looked into a mirror.

I needed to see my face.

I open my eyes once more.

The burning rays of sunlight razing the surface of my pale green retinas.

Ow.

My mind says to shut my eyes, to dive back under the covers, to sleep once more.

Fuck I am lazy.

I throw my mind aside.

Much like I always do.

And I slip out from underneath the warm embrace of my covers.

Only a black tank and pink short shorts adorned my fragile, slender frame.

Immediately the cold air attacks my bare arms and legs with pinpricks of freezing pain.

Quickly they go numb.

My determination refuses to be deterred.

I skip across the many articles of clothing and books and cd cases that litter the floor until I reach the large mirror hanging from the back of my bedroom door.

I wipe a few locks of my long, faded raven black hair out of my face and take a long look into the mirror upon my door.

I run a few slender fingers down my cheek.

A single tear chasing the fingertips.

“Who are you?” I say to my reflection.

She only shrugs and stays silent. 

2

The sound of shattering glass echoes throughout the house.

The many thousands of shards lay upon the ground like the most mosaic of puzzle pieces.

The bright sunlight reflected upon the many shards.

Blinding my eyes.

It hurt.

My hand was contorted into a tight fist.

And it was bleeding.

The knuckles profusely dripping a beautiful scarlet.

My breathing was ragged.

My face stained with tears.

I slump down to my knees.

I remain silent.

Silent.

Like my reflection.

My door flies open, revealing the distraught form of my mother.

Worry was painted across her thinly lined face.

She sidesteps the glass and falls to her knees.

Wrapping her arms around me, pulling me close and enveloping me in the safety of her embrace.

I break down.

My sobs are muffled into her shoulder.

Her gentle croons whispering into my ear, her tears mixing with mine.

A broken montage of a mother and her child.

“It’s going to be alright.”

Her words echoed dead in my ears.

Because it will never be alright.

Nothing will be alright ever again.

Never when one’s been broken such as I have.

3

I lay upon my freshly made bed.

Light still flooded in.

My eyes still hurt.

I was looking at my bandaged hand with an offhand curiosity.

My dad had cleaned up the glass.

My mom had calmed me down with tea.

The soft tunes of Three Days Grace echoed lightly throughout my room, emanating from the cd player next to my bed.

My cheeks had the faint trails of dried tears upon them.

I hugged myself and rolled to my side.

My hair draping over my face.

Blocking the light from touching my eyes.

They didn’t hurt anymore.

What day was it?

What month?

What year?

I can’t remember.

I didn’t want to remember anyway.

I close my eyes.

Deep breath in.

Ragged breath out.

I repeat the process over and over until I drift off into a light slumber.

Hoping that the few minutes of sleep will help me clear my head.

“Help me.”

Those words leave my mouth.

A single tear accompanies it.

Until I finally drift away into dreams.

Hopefully to finally understand the situation I was in.

But instead I’m greeted by a dreamless sleep.

And the minutes turned to hours.