*Mirror*

The continuous ringing of an alarm clock echoed through the dark apartment bedroom, waking the single resident of the room. The young woman sat and shut the annoying contraption off, wiping off the tears that stained her freckled cheeks as she did so. She sat for a moment, pondering the fitful night of sleep she had had. Memories that were dubbed too painful to be remembered in the waking world had come back to haunt her dreams, and even in her unconsciousness they caused her an unbearable pain.

She climbed out of bed with the faces of the past still swimming in her mind's eye, all too painful to remember but too precious to forget. But she supposed she would have to get over the pain of remembering them, for that day she would be seeing them for the last time. For that was the day the young woman was to attend the funerals of both of her parents, her cousin, and all three of her siblings, and she would have to look upon their faces in the open caskets. No matter how painful doing so would be.

The young woman stripped her nightgown and in its place donned a black dress with a cinched waist and simple pattern around the neckline, bought especially for that day. It was horribly plain, and far from anything she would have been seen in on any other day. But of course, this was no ordinary day, and dressing in the splendor with which she usually put in her outfits was the last thing she wanted to do.

The young woman headed for the large oak vanity which sat opposite the foot of her bed. Drawing the cushioned stool, she sat down and appraised her reflection in the ornate mirror. She let out a quiet gasp as her eyes met those of her reflection, and felt a fresh wave of heartrending nostalgia crashing down upon her. All her life, she had been naturally very fortunate looking, and had often been referred to as the beauty of the family; a compliment which she had always silently agreed with. Oftentimes, she found herself believing that she was possessed of a beauty so her own that she looked nothing like any of her three siblings. But on the morning of their funeral, looking into the mirror she saw not herself, but bits and pieces of each of her siblings put together like a puzzle to create the revered face looking back at her.

Her eyes were those of her elder brother. A clear shade of crystal blue, he had always used his eyes to express his innermost feelings. At their gentlest, they were a dazzling colour, reminding one of a calm pond; her brother was almost always gentle when addressing his siblings. On the very rare times he was angry, they would darken like a sky before a storm. The young woman winced, remembering how often she had seen his eyes get that way when addressing her in the past few months of his life. She had never realized how strikingly similar their eyes were, in colours and in the ways they revealed what they were feeling. Examining her face from all angles, she lifted her face into a weak, sick looking smile, and there she also saw her elder brother in the way her mouth lifted her cheeks and crinkled her eyes. Her breath became short as she remembered his smile; always so full of love and compassion, she had been able to see the unconditional love he felt for her when he smiled down upon her. With a painful twinge in her heart, she was reminded how long it had been since he had smiled at her that way, even well before the accident had happened. She watched as their shared smile fell and her eyes-his eyes-swam with a fresh wave of tears.

Her now-wet eyes traveled next down to her nose. It was a slender, soft, well sculpted nose which turned up slightly at the bottom. Though currently red and slightly running, it was a nose exactly like that of her baby sister. They both even had the same hazel-coloured freckles spreading from the bridge of the nose across also similar high, plump cheekbones. Squeezing shut her eyes, she remembered all the times she had kissed her sister's small little nose; she had done it every day for as long as she could remember, be it when she had fallen over and scraped her knee and needed comfort, or was heading off for bed, teddy bear in hand, wishing everyone goodnight. As her sister had matured into the seventeen year old she had been that fateful day on the train, all the features of her face but her nose had been stripped of their childishness and developed into those of a fair teenage girl. The young woman lightly ran a finger over the nose that so reminded her of her sister, realizing for the first time that the same could be said of herself.

The rest of her face, she realized, was entirely that of her younger brother. He, too, had shared the freckles adorning her cheeks and nose. Her famously plush, rosebud lips were an exact replica of his. Gazing upon her mouth, she recalled the many expressions he had made, and realized just how similar her own expressions were; his tight lipped frown, his crooked smirk, his true, gentle smile. Her younger brother was always the blacksheep of the family, and thus it was a very rare occasion when he truly smiled. As a matter of fact, his only surviving sibling could not even remember the last time she had seen him smile his true smile-although she supposed that it was for the same reason she couldn't remember the last time her elder brother had looked upon her with unconditional love. She had the same dark hair as her younger brother, although hers was notably curlier than his. She remembered all the times she had playfully tussled his dark hair; she was the only person he allowed to do so. Of all three of her siblings, she had been closest to her younger brother-perhaps it was because they were the two middle children, or perhaps it was because they were so alike, both in looks and in personalities. She dearly missed her younger brother, and found it aching to think she would never again tussle his dark hair, which was so very much like hers.

As she sat contemplating her face and the faces of her siblings in the mirror, the young woman was suddenly reminded of all of the things she had done leading up to the train wreck that took her siblings. Striving for social acceptance and a maturity level she could only pretend she was possessed of, she had put a great strain on her relationships with each of her siblings. The short skirts and multiple suitors she brought home had caused her elder brother to look at her with harsh, stormy blue eyes, disgust clearly written in them. The ungodly hours she stayed out till caused her younger brother's plush, rosebud lips to pull tightly together in a disapproving frown. The sneering way she often spoke to her parents caused her baby sister's nose to turn an irritated red as she cried in her frustration. As she looked into the mirror and remembered the living hell she had turned her relationships with her family into, her face was suddenly void of any similarities with her siblings; instead, she only saw the harsh, overly made up face of the town socialite she had strived to be.

Letting out a ragged gasp, she picked up the hairbrush sitting on her vanity and slammed it against the mirror, shattering the image of her face and sending shards flying. She put her head in her arms and broke down into uncontrollable sobs.

For the first time in her life, Susan Pevensie hated what she saw in her mirror.