Abridged Ends

Then ≈ Two

edited.

THEN              c h a p t e r  t w o

There are moments in life when you stop to ask yourself, 'Why me?' Why not that creepy hobo living off garbage or why not that spoilt thirteen year old who can't ever wear enough makeup? But have you ever thought about why that little girl likes playing with cosmetics? For all you know, the girl could be fighting cancer and if makeup makes her happy, then that's what she'll do. And the hobo, his family could be dead and there he is, broken mind and soul, through and through. The last thing they need is anyone's condescending glance or people condemning bad luck to them.

Can you relate to that devastating time-period in which nothing else matters except yourself and your unfortunate luck? A few minutes where you let yourself be a little bit selfish and think about only you, your loss, your misfortune, or -in my case- your stupidity.

Have you ever stopped to think that there is a hidden reason behind every rock thrown your way, behind every flaw, every fault, feud and fallacy? It's fatalism.

In my situation, that awkward, embarrassing day, during which my mind refused to be sensible, had a bright side to it. And I can perfectly recall the memory. It was the day I met Novelle and Addison. I didn't know then what an important role they would play in my life.

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It was Sunday, 11 A.M, in the month of September. A day after Rose and I had shifted into the Wesley's new home. Tomorrow, I was going to start my first day at Harper Valley High School. So, today, I wanted to go around the neighborhood- familiarizing myself with the town, and hopefully make a few friends.

I was standing in front of the seven foot long mirror attached to the insides of the walk-in wardrobe. My reflection was different. I looked different. Out of all the clothes in the closet, I had chosen the simplest ones. The black skinny jeans I wore made me look taller than my already lanky structure. It was a big change compared to the frayed, cut up, passed- down jeans we were provided with in the orphanage. I had pulled on a crisp, white shirt and rolled up the sleeves.

The image that stared back was definitely not me. He was taller, slightly healthier and arrogantly handsome. Moreover, he looked like the son of a millionaire. I wanted to go back to my old look and I started undoing the top button of my shirt.

'You promised, Sam.' the reflection seemed to move and talk to me, interrupting my thought process.

'Don't you remember?' It continued. 'You promised yourself that you will improve, that you would change and discard your old rotten self. Have you forgotten what you did to that old couple? You ruined them. You promised to turn over to a new leaf for Rose, remember?'

That I did do.

A pang of realization settled in my chest.

"Shut up" I said instead. "What do you know about that? You're just a reflection."

'Ah, but that's the thing. I am, of course, your reflection, which makes me, you.'

And in a twisted way it was right.

"Just go away." I said miserably.

The image smirked, an expression I had never it myself do before. It made the boy look more arrogant and haughty. That made me want to pick up the pointy hair brush from the shelf and fling it at the mirror. But I remembered what people said about broken mirrors giving you years and years of bad luck. I wasn't a superstitious person by nature but I needed all the good fortune I could get.

Subsequently, I ended up throwing a t-shirt at the mirror. The reflection stood there mockingly, laughing at my frustration.

'You know I'm right, Sam.' It said, and with one last look at me, it vanished.