ch1: Mirrors

Rage,

It’s the most exhilarating emotion I’ve ever felt.

It shakes every nerve in my body as my grip tightens around the bat. Its pulse simmers through my veins as I gaze into all seven of the mirrors surrounding me. I step closer to the largest full body mirror. I pace myself, the cold grass numbing my bare feet. The image in the mirror mimics my movements, a body weaving through an empty field. It’s not my reflection that stares back at me but Dr. Ortiz’s worn, dry face.

“I’m so sorry Mrs. Collins,”

Another step, “There is nothing I can do.”

A deranged scream escapes my lips. I swing the bat violently. The mirror shatters, hundreds of reflective pieces flying.

“We’ve tried everything.”

I spin around, facing the mirror behind me.

“There is no magic pill to give her and surgery just isn’t a possibility.”

I strike at his face. Beating at his condemning words until his image falls to nothing at my feet. I raise my hand, bat ready, when an angry and mournful voice comes from my left.

“You swore. You swore you would help her!”

My mother’s face shines through the mirror. Her normally soft expression is blotchy and red, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. Hot tears of my own sting my eyes. A massive guilt crawls into the pit of my stomach and anchors itself. Her pain is because of me. I am to blame. I am at fault.

“Please, Mrs. Collins!” Ortiz’s voice rings through my ears. His figure overlays my mothers. “Your daughter is an anomaly.”

“Shut up!” I shout at his frozen image, “It’s not my fault!”

It’s my fault entirely. I swing the bat in white hot anger. His voice lingers. “She only has a year, two at most.”

My inhuman cries mix with the sound of glass shattering. The shards fly through the air. He’s still there. He’s taunting me, his words circling around me, suffocating me.

“She only has a year…Only a year…A year.”

My mother’s weeping echoes, her face distorted through the destroyed fragments. “Don’t you dare give up on her, not while she’s dying!”

I break. The tears flood down my face as every shard of glass around me screams my doom. The doctor’s voice swarms through the air, “Your daughter cannot be saved!”

The last mirror explodes under my force. The voices are everywhere, ensnaring me and then they’re gone. My heavy breathing and the soft clink of glass falling from its frame are the only sounds left. I fall to the ground and lay on my back. A wetness touches my lip and a metallic, iron like taste fills my mouth. Blood.

I can feel the broken pieces piercing my skin but it’s more of a dull throb than a stinging pain. I close my eyes, pretending that my every fear has been shattered. For a moment, it works. My only focus becomes the erratic beating of my heart. For a moment the world isn’t making me play a very sick and twisted game. Then the moment is gone.

I sit up, raking my fingers through my long hair. Tiny slivers of glass are embedded in the thick, black waves. I pick the largest pieces out and stand. I gasp sharply, feeling the repercussions of not wearing shoes. Walking on the balls of my feet, I play hop-scotch with the broken mirror.

My bright, sun-kissed yellow jeep is slanted on the hill, the trunk wide open. I sit on the edge and lift my foot, cussing as I yank the piece of glass out. I’m slipping my shoes on when my phone rings.

I answer, “Hello?”

Bec’s voice is a bit breathless, “Bay? Where are you?”

“Um…” I glance back at my destruction “At the library,” I roll my eyes at how lame my own lie sounds. “What is it?”

“They shut down the internet! Who does that?” I tuck the phone in the crock of my neck and dig through the items in my car. I grab several large garbage bags and thick leather gloves. It’s not snowing yet but it’s cold enough that I slip a dark jacket over my light blue sweater.

Bec mumbles to someone else before answering me, “You need to hurry back to school before they - dude, that’s mine! What is your problem?”

“Hello? What’s wrong? Who are you yelling at?” I crouch and put the broken mirror piece into the bag. She doesn’t answer, her muffled shouting distracting me. “Bec?”

“These people are crazy! I swear they might as well arrest me before I get charged with assault!”

I can’t help it. I laugh.

“It’s not funny.” She yells “I can’t stand – you need a warrant for that, Asshole!”

I stop, bent over the trash bag. Warrant? I yell Bec's name, trying to get her attention, and stand after picking up a large shard of glass. The sun reflects off the surface and shines in my eyes. Blinking feverishly, I examine my injuries. The worst of it is a cut on my cheek, close to my ear. It’s small and easily fixable if I slap a Band-Aid on it. I turn my hand over a few times and flex my fingers. My knuckles look raw.

“Bay?” Bec calls, her voice returning to the phone, “you still there?”

“Yup,” I grunt and lift the bag over my shoulder, “what’s happening?”

She practically growls, “Colorado frickin’ Police happened.” I trip over my own two feet. Sure of only one possibility that involves the police. “Bec, I told you were going to get caught!” I bark, more out of worry than actual annoyance. “How many times did you think you could hack into government files and not get caught?”

“What? No, it’s not that. They - you’re not going to find her in my laundry basket!” she shrieks, high and furious “They’re tearing our room apart!”

“I don’t understand,” I say, walking back to my jeep. “Why are the police searching our room?”

“How the hell would I know? Apparently some girls went missing from the party last night.”

I heft the bag of broken glass into the trunk and toss the gloves on top. My face scrunches as I try to remember that night. Dalworths Academy so rarely had a weekend that wasn’t piled with work that over half of the student body had crammed themselves into the 3rd floor of the female dorms. I remember loud music, dim lights and a seemingly unlimited supply of alcohol. The fact that one or two of us were still recuperating from a massive hangover doesn’t surprise me.

Still, this wasn’t the first “unauthorized” party that’s been thrown. It’s not even the first time a girl has decided to sneak off with a boyfriend for a day or two. But the police…I don’t get it. I shove the trunk shut. “I’m on my way now.”

“Speed,” Bec orders, “If they go anywhere near my underwear drawer- you’re out of a best friend.”

I shake my head, causing the phone to slip. I bend to pick it up.

A hand comes down hard on my back. I gasp, straightening. A crow flies pass my head. It smashes into my window. Blood smears as it slides down the glass. I scream, falling to the ground, my hands covering my face. I’m trembling.

I can hear Bec's voice calling me. I slowly lift my arm and open one eye. I expect to see a twitching carcass or a watery, sugar red paint scattered against my car; I don’t see anything. I sob a sigh relief of and get to my feet. I pick up my phone, “I’m leaving now,” I say and hang up.

I tentatively touch the back seat window. I even glance under the car. There’s nothing, no crow or blood; just the undeniable certainty that I had felt something touch me. Taking a deep breath I get into my car. The radio blasts as I turn the ignition and back up down the hill. From the clearing to the path through the trees is a 10minute drive to the main road. From there it’s another 10 minutes till I can spot the large, looming gate that surrounds my school.

The ancient-looking iron and stone barrier is engraved with an even older looking plaque. Dalsworth Private Academy: school of brilliance and achievement. In the center of the 120 year old school is a bone chilling 180 year old Asylum it’s named after. A crumbling school built on the grounds of a crumbling institution- my home. A confused frown tugs at my lips when an officer stops me at the main entrance. He takes a few steps and squints at the student pass in my wind-shield. Satisfied, he lets me through.

Dalsworth is in chaos. The mass of students flood the entrance; from the administration building to the dining hall, it’s impossible for me to drive forward without hitting someone. I park my car and get out. I try to push my way through the crowd of bodies and fail. I settle for scrambling to the fountain at the center of the entrance’s circular driveway. Not once, in the near five years I've been here, have I seen water coming from the sculpted woman’s hands. Her body is naked accept for the random piece of fabric that just so happens to cover all her feminine parts.

From here, I can see the extent of what is happening. Officers are rushing confused and unwilling students out of the dorms. Bright, yellow tape goes up in a flash, marking a line forbidden to cross. To the side, in a small cluster, several girls are crying and clinging to each other.

“I think they’re the ones who saw it.”

I turn to the voice behind me. Bec's petit frame is hugging herself and shivering violently. Her normally large, vibrant blue eyes are dull. Her short, sun blonde hair is knotted in all directions. “Bec?” I touch her arm, watching her nostrils flare as she studied the police.

Bec shakes her head. “God…that room,” she covers her face with her hand and I have to put my head right next to hers to hear her mumbling. “There’s blood everywhere.”