Reflection

Chapter 9

Sanity is a delicate balance of behavior. I had never struggled to control my thoughts nor tried to ignore mental images that I knew could not be real. Still, as I stared at my own eyes in the mirror, I battled for rationality to win out. She could not be there too; she could not have entered this home filled with life undetected. Still, as I gazed in the hallway mirror, she appeared behind me, pleased to see us both in the reflection. She was the manifestation of my darkest thoughts.

I was frozen in our gaze as a cold shudder trickled down my spine. My tense muscles ached against the quiver her presence conjured. My somber eyes were no match for the gleam of hers. It was as though her study covered me in a layer of dust, resigned to an aging still portrait jailed within the mirror's frame. Yet, she was alive; she was bursting to get out and wreak havoc on the world at large. Her foot fell to the floor as she stepped forward, causing a low throbbing creak to escape the board.

My mind fragmented like a shattering mirror. A figment of my imagination could not fool the floor. I whirled around to see nothing but the empty hall behind me. Still, I was not at ease. The quickening of my pulse matched my fervent footsteps. I paused, reluctant to step onto the nefarious board that now encompassed the mix of my collapsing sanity and nightmares. This plank should have throbbed or pulsed like the rising pain in my temples, but instead, it lay there dormant.

One step, one tiny movement, and I would either seize the victory of validation or plummet into the abyss of insanity. One step separated my past from my future. Hesitancy clouded my present. Did I dare to edge forward? Could I bear the answer?

One step and a slow moan escaped the bored. My mind exploded; the once deadly shards of my fragmented mind were now reduced to powder coating life itself. The low groan of a single floorboard pulled all my thoughts to my reality. My ghost was real and closer than I could possibly imagine.

"Antonia?" Peter's voice was thick with confidence that had been painted with the thin coat of falsehood that attempted to feign worry. "Are you alright?"

I lifted my foot from the board, relishing in the screech's symphony, and sucked in a deep breath.

"Of course," I smiled. "I'm just so grateful to be safe."

I could feel her enter me; the nefarious vision that had been driving me insane was now my salvation.

"You should rest." Peter suspiciously eyed me.

"Yes," I nodded. "Perhaps I should lie down. I feel as though I haven't slept in weeks."

"Of course. You must be exhausted. Let me show you to your room." His smile was eerily familiar, as though he too was possessed by the darker me.

I followed Peter up the stairs and along a hallway painted a burgundy red. Countless doors passed us before we stopped at the last door.

"This should work. I apologize for any dust. We don't have many visitors, but we have changed the sheets," he nodded as he pushed open the door to a smartly furnished room.

"Thank you." I continued to smile as I surveyed the room.

"I'll leave you to your rest," he added as he bowed out of the door.

I settled onto the bed and waited. My mind stayed clear, clearer than it had been for days.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," I whispered.

"Is it time to play?" My voice responded from the corner. "I've wanted to play for so long."

She was there in the corner, as real as the bed beneath me.

"Who are you?" I asked, as though I were speaking with an unexpected caller at my door.

A childish giggle escaped her. "You still don't know?" She asked as she cocked her head. "The game is only fun if we both play." She gave me a wink and slipped out the door.

I laid back, contemplating the questions I should have focused on all along. Who was she? How did she have my face? How could she slip in and out of every location with such ease? Answers were so close but refused to bubble to the surface and would not give in to rest.

"Antonia?" Nick's voice came barely above a whisper. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," I murmured as I shifted to a sitting position.

"My father said you weren't feeling well. Were you able to get any rest?" Nick's head cocked in a familiar manner as concern filled his face.

"Yes," I smiled.

"I brought your things," he noted as he placed my bag on the end of the bed. It was overstuffed with the clothes he had given me.

My eyes skipped from my bag to his duffle bag that sat at his feet. It was tugging at my mind, screaming at me to collect the breadcrumbs and find my way home.

"You don't have to say here," I offered.

"I know I don't have to, but you are very important to me." He settled on the bed and brushed a tendril of hair from my face.

"Because I remind you of your sisters?" I prodded.

"Mmhmm." His smile was vacant as his mind drifted away.

"Tell me about them," I continued.

"I don't know one very well. We've never been close, but Ephie is..." Nick's eyes snapped back to my face. "She is hypnotic in every way. She is so confident that the world revolves around her that I would be hesitant to argue."

"She sounds..."

"I don't mean that in a bad way. She is a mix of methodical plotting and chaotic impulse. It's a toxic mix that makes me very protective. People don't realize that she is so vulnerable. Our mother leaving, her choosing to leave us behind, has bonded us, my father, as well. We are the connected discards in a way," he smiled as though it were a romantic notion.

"I never felt discarded by my father," I mused to myself.

"Maybe he didn't discard you. Perhaps you were ripped from him," Nick shrugged.

I eyed him as the final few pieces slipped into place.

"Nick, what's in the duffle bag?" I asked.

"Huh?" He absently murmured.

"The duffle bag; you have carried it with you since New York, yet you have taken nothing from it," I noted.

"As I have said, you are so much like Ephie," he smiled. "Come downstairs; another guest has arrived."

No was not an option, and there were no guests at the Pavesi house.