I confuse my mother with my fascination with mirrors. I have always spent long hours staring into them. Looking, searching, for secrets hidden in their all-knowing depths.
The person staring back at you in the mirror is supposed to be you… right?
I am brushing my frizzy hair. But She refuses to. She simply stares back at me. Her brown eyes are wide; a teasing smile graces her lips. Almost as if She is daring me to comment. Daring me to say something is not how its supposed to be.
A knock on my door is the only warning heralding my mother's entrance. I barely glance at Her before returning to brushing my hair. She copies me now. This is really the only reason I know for certain She is not supposed to be there. Surely if She belonged She would feel no reason to hide herself.
My mother leaves and Her hand reaches out to rest a palm on the cold surface of the glass. I touch it. I feel warmth through the thin glass separating us.
This can't be real.
No.
I know I am crazy.
I know that things cannot exist.
Magic is not real. Science rules the world. Books have been written about everything. Not one really mentions magic as being truly a realistic possibility.
Mirrors can only show what they can see.
Right?
The mirror shatters when I slam my fist into it. I want Her to go away.
"Leave me alone!" I scream at Her.
She won't go though. All She does is smile up at me. Every one of Her thousand faces. That smile. If anyone else gave it to me I would think them to be friendly. But not Her. I know the truth. She cares for no one. If She did why would She hurt me so?
Red drops fall onto the shattered glass. My mother runs in. I do not notice her until hands wrap around me. I am too busy staring at the face looking back at me from the floor. My mother pulls me away from the glass. As I leave I see Her wink at me.
I scream. I can't hear it. But I know it was loud. My mother had to cover her ears. She pulled them away with shock. Blood was pouring down from them. It shocked me into stopping the noise.
The blood was everywhere and all I can do is stare as it runs down the sides of her face. All I can do is stare at her on the floor. My brain has shut down. I can't think. The only thing I seem to be able to do is stare.
The paramedics showed up not to long after my mother fell unconscious to the floor. They said my mother had a seizure and fell into the mirror. The said my cuts were from trying to help her out. My mother believed them.
It makes sense to me. It must be the truth. The images of the girl in the mirror were just my mind playing tricks because of the stress. It has been documented about several times. That must be the truth… right?
