Liberation

Chapter 32

Julia's point of view:

Mirrors only show half of a reflection.

You look in the reflective glass and see yourself, but at the same time, you also don't. Lift your hand, and the glass will mimic your move. Touch it, and it's like another hand held up to your own. Talk to it, and your reflection talks along with you.

But what a mirror won't show is your real reflection, the one you don't want to see in front of you. The type of you that is hidden behind façades and smiles, the type that embodies you at your worst. The version of yourself that will always be shattered in places.

Smile, and the mirror smiles with you. It just doesn't show the despair you keep hidden behind it.

A half-reflection.

I think back to the mirror I have hanging in my house, the one I twirled my hair in front of and wrote messages in lipstick on.

Back when I was happy and had absolutely no cares to burden myself with.

Back when Peter loved me and my friends were the best people I knew.

Back when Henley was locked away and I though my enemies were gone.

Back and back and back.

What a fool I was, a naive and ignorant child. Evil doesn't disappear from this world, not now and certainly not ever. It just finds new forms to take life from just so it can come back to haunt you.

I look up at Peter from where I lie on the ground, refusing to get up or even move.

He is gazing at the ruined city with a faraway look in his eyes, almost as if he's trying to recall something from a life that has long since passed him by.

Normally I would have been excited by this, almost like he might be trying rediscover the good side of himself.

But I'm not stupid.

Evil has taken its new form, rooting itself in Peter's soul. The boy I once knew, the Peter that banished nightmares and loved me fiercely, is gone.

The Peter that made me tea and brought me water lilies, the boy who always made it a point to remember my favorite color, is unreachable.

He's moved on from this life.
He's left me behind.

And it's my fault.

That boy was a part of me, the part that made me feel whole. And now that he's gone, he took everything with him.

All he's left me with is this shell of myself, an emotional scar that even Cassia couldn't heal.

I hate myself for what I've done to Peter, all of this unnecessary pain that I've caused him.

But what sickens me most is that I still somehow have the nerve to feel sorry for myself as well.

"Let's go," a catlike voice says, a smooth and cunning tone that makes me recoil in reclusion.

Henley walks over to me, lifting me up by the collar of my shirt so I can meet her eyes.

She smirks, gladly taking in my bloodied pulp appearance, courtesy of the evil in Peter.

Blood from my forehead has dried on my face, my left wrist is broken, and I have more scratches on my arms and legs than I can count.

"Don't worry, dear," Henley says in a feigned tone of gentleness. "Where we're going, the doctors will fix you up just in time for my experiments," she says before letting go of my collar, thus making me drop to the ground again with a painful thump.

Hearing this, I struggle to sit up in the slightest and least painful way. "Where are you taking me?" I ask in a voice so weak and raspy that it's pathetic.

"You'll find out soon enough. Take care of...that...Peter," she tells him, gesturing to me before she leaves while some of her police force head with her.

I tense up as Peter pulls me to my feet by my handcuffed hands, my left wrist practically screaming at me with pain.

"Ow," I wince in a weak voice, only to immediately become furious with myself in saying so.

How dare I complain about pain in Peter's presence after the lifetime of anguish I've most certainly condemned him to?

"The pain will make you learn," Peter whispers in my ear, his voice rotting me to my core.

He pushes me along in Henley's direction as we retreat into the charred woods, probably heading for another place that she's managed to keep hidden for years.

I pass by body after body, cringing as I see them. I catch glimpses of my citizens hidden behind trashcans and inside old buildings, looks of terror on their faces as they watch me go.

There's no telling what kind of life I've left behind for them, what kind of horrors Will might have in store for them.

I find myself wondering of what became of Cassia, Susan, Adam, and Kyle. I like to hope that they made it, that they're all alive and well somewhere.

But luck has not been on my side today.

We take our first steps into the woods, the ashes of consumed trees and brush crunching under my shoes. Smoke rises from the damp ground, filling the air with its repulsive scent.

My eyes sting with tears, but I can blame it on the smoke irritating them.

However, I know that's a lie on my behalf.

The reflection the mirror doesn't show knows why I cry.

END OF BOOK TWO.