𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 #1: 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

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AIDAN:
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I scuirted my body spray all over my body as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I dropped the can of body spray and resorted to combing and brushing my hair as I began to hum to the song playing on my phone, 'Sip (Alcohol) by Joeboy'.

I looked at myself once more in the mirror for a brief moment, and brought my gaze down to my wrist watch.

6:50 AM.

I turned to my king-sized bed and laid on it as I did nothing more but stare at the ceiling.

I stared at it some more and fiddled with my fingers.

I stared at it some more and bit my lips.

I stared at it some more and forcefully clenched my duvet.

I stared at it some more as the atmosphere suddenly turned hot.

I stared at the image on the ceiling. It could've been real, it could've been my imagination, I wasn't sure, but I knew I should've stopped staring at it.

Why did it have to be this way. Why did I have to see this everywhere I looked, each time I was alone, and everytime it was quiet.

Why couldn't I ever stop seeing them, the pictures, the faces. The people.

It had been two years. Two depressive years since the traumatic event took place, and I still couldn't get over it.

I shut my eyes tight and tightened my hands I had rolled into fists.

It only made it worse.

I could see her smile at me, along side Imogen. Bright beaming smiles that held up so much light and happiness.

Happiness I had destroyed, and light I had diminished.

It was all my fault. My fault. My fault!

I felt sweat trickle down the sides of my face and I immediately opened my eyes.

I let out a grimace, as I stared at my self in the mirror. And just like always, I bit my lip. Bit it so hard, I wanted my teeth to dig into it, I continued to bite my lips... Until I could feel the metallic taste of blood.

A small smile wore it's way to my face just as it dropped. I grabbed a razor from the top of my desk, and cut myself sharply on my shoulders as blood gushed out afterwards, but I was quick to wrap a thin piece of plaster around it, and covered it with my uniform sleeves just as I heard a knock on the door.

I quickly laid back on the bed, and stared back at the ceiling for a brief moment, sighing deeply in relief at the white-painted ceiling.

"Come in!"

The door knob turned and in came Aunty Fatima - one of the oldest workers in my father's 'mansion' who was in her late forties - as she pushed in a serving cart into the room.

"Good morning, young man." She smiled.

"Good morning Aunt Fatima." I greeted, sitting upright on the bed.

"Ready for school, I see. Here's your breakfast." She said with a warm smile, causing me to smile as well.

She left the serving cart now in front of me and walked to a pile of dirty clothes at the corner of my room and brought out a basket from my wardrobe.

"These pile of clothes are something!" She giggled taking a sniff of one and throwing her head to the side in disgust, causing me to chuckle.

"A grown man like you should start to do your own laundry. It wouldn't do you any good because someday, you're going to move out of this house." She smiled, as she walked towards me and ruffled my hair.