Reflection

3

I was alone in a small room made completely out of white. The only other thing in it was a full-body mirror, like the one I had in my room. "Hello?" I called. No answer. I stepped hesitantly toward the mirror.

It was an oval shape, with a dark, expensive-looking wooden frame. It looked so out of place in the white room.

Somehow, I wasn't surprised by my lack of a reflection. I reached a hand forward slowly, and touched the glass with the tips of my fingers.

My fingers slid into the mirror, making the surface around them ripple, almost as if I had dipped them in a glass of water. No, not water. It was thicker than water, more like pudding.

I wiggled my fingers in the mirror, watching in something between horror and fascination. Then I pulled them back out and looked around the room again. "Hello? Is anyone there?" Nothing.

I turned back to the mirror, about two inches from my face. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into it.

And then I was falling.

I jerked awake, feeling as though I were actually falling, and was surprised to find myself on the carpet next to my bed. So I had fallen. It was still dark, and my clock said it was midnight. I tried to stand up, but my arm collapsed beneath me. It was numb. I groaned and used my other arm to stand up. Only my left leg was numb. I fell in a heap on the ground, thinking, What the heck? Using my left arm, I pushed myself into a standing position, and hopped on my right foot down the stairs and to the kitchen.

My throat burned—but not in the way I would expect. It was cold. Really cold. It was like I was getting freeze-burn, like I had dry ice stuck in my throat. I delved the pantry, searching for anything, anything to warm my throat up. The burning escalated, and I finally yanked out some coffee and put it in the coffee maker.

When the coffee was warming up, I started coughing. I put my hand to my mouth to try and muffle the coughs so my dad didn't wake up, and it came away red. Coughing turned to choking, and soon I was gasping for air. I grabbed the coffee, still burning hot, and dumped it down my throat.

It burned my tongue, but didn't help. My other leg went numb, and I crumpled to the ground, choking. So this is it, I thought. This is how it ends, and I didn't even know what was happening.

I blinked, and suddenly there was a glass cup in front of me. At this point I didn't care what it was or how it got there. I was desperate.

My other arm started to go numb. I quickly reached for the cup and gulped it down, swallowing too quickly to taste it. It's contents dripped down my face in my haste. It felt like the ice in my throat slowly started to melt, my limbs regained feeling, and in no time, I felt completely fine, as if nothing had happened.

I looked in the glass. The remnants were a dark red. I rinsed out the cup and set it down, suddenly not wanting to know what was in it anymore. I washed my face without looking at what was on it, squeezing my eyes shut when the water turned red, then brushed my teeth to get rid of the horrible aftertaste.

I went back to the kitchen and cleaned the blood off the floor, then stepped outside. I needed some fresh air.

I was immediately met by the suffocating humid heat of summer in New Orleans, so "fresh" was out of the picture, of course. Sitting on the porch, I looked at the still trees for a few moments before the inevitable questions came.

How did that cup get there? Who was that boy who ran up to me before I lost consciousness? Is he the one that's been helping me all this time? I blinked. Someone's been helping me? Helping me what? Is that a hallucination, too? I put my head in my hands. Why was this happening to me? I've never done anything wrong. Have I?

I was trying to remember what I'd done to deserve this when there was a rustling sound in the trees. "Hello?" I called. "Is anyone there?" No answer. It must have just been the trees blowing in the wind, I told myself, though part of me knew there was no wind. I studiously ignored that part. Walking briskly back to my room, I lay back down in bed, hoping I would find sleep. I didn't.

•  •  •  •  •

I woke up at about 6:00 the next morning, groggy and irrational thanks to about an hour of sleep. Six seemed like an appropriate time to get up, so I went downstairs and read a book until Sam came out.

"Good morning," he said. "You're up early."

"Yeah," I answered calmly. "I couldn't sleep." Sam handed me a cup of coffee.

"You still wearing those contacts?"

"These are different ones, but yeah. I love these things! It's a good thing I bought quite a few of them."

"Oh goodness," he said. "Don't tell me this is some new trend." I laughed. "It's not."

"Good," he replied, sounding genuinely relieved. "I don't think I could handle that."

He looked up to say something, then trailed off, staring at something behind me. I turned my head. A small mirror hung on the wall, directed at me—or where I should have been. I jumped off the couch. "Do you have time for some eggs?" I asked. He shook his head, seeming to shake off what he had seen. "I have to be to school early, I have some work to do."

"Ok, that's fine. You better go, then."

He nodded. "Yeah, I should probably go." He kissed me on the top of the head, grabbed his bag, and left. I breathed a sigh of relief and ascended the stairs to my room. I set my coffee down on my nightstand and positioned myself in front of the long mirror.

Remembering my dream, I took a hesitant step forward and reached my hand up slowly. This could be extremely dangerous. If this is real, I have no idea what will happen, where it leads to. But there was no way I was not going to touch it.

With the tip of my pointer finger, I tapped the glass. Sure enough, my finger slid into it. It felt thick like pudding, but rippled like water. I pulled my hand back out and stare at the mirror, curiosity burning inside me.

"I can tell you take drama," said a beautiful and unfamiliar voice behind her. "You're an excellent liar."

I whirled. There, lying casually on my bed, and looking through one of my books, was a gorgeous stranger. He was a pale, lean boy with electric silver eyes and dark hair that fell into them. He had prominent cheekbones, but not so prominent that he wasn't beautiful.

He stood gracefully, and I stumbled backwards, almost falling into the mirror. I would've, were it not for the boy crossing the room and catching me in a flash of speed. He put his hand on my back and steadied me, his face inches from mine.

"Careful," he warned, his breath oddly cold on my nose and cheeks. "It's dangerous in there for a newbie."

"I'm sorry?" I squeaked. He looked troubled, staring at my eyes in frustration. "I just don't understand why you're eyes are red."

"Join the club," I muttered. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. Then he sighed and released me, and for some reason I was disappointed. "I guess it's time for an explanation."