Cracks in the Mirror

Hospital

Beep. Beep. Beep.

That's all I can hear. I can't move at all.

Oh God.

A wave of panic surges through my body. Slowly, sensation returns to my numb fingers. I move my fingers a little. I can feel the soft sheets below me. My eyes are not capable of opening as yet.

I hear a few voices. Catch a few words- conscious...hear...break...leg.

I force my drugged brain to process this.

Oh.

Oh.

I realize what it means. I'm conscious and can hear everyone, even though my eyes are closed.

And my leg was broken.

I try hard to lift my heavy eyelids.

Slowly, I open one eye. Then the other. I look around at the room.

I am in a blank world.

A sudden wave of sterile stench hits me.

I make a face and look to one side. I can see the white costume of a nurse. Mom and dad are clearly waiting outside, looking in hopefully through the small window in the door. As soon as they see me open my eyes, they force their way past the disapproving nurse and enter the room.

They rush over to my bed and wrap their arms around me in a bone crushing hug.

This is uncomfortable, is all I can think.

Especially since I'm not very close to either one of them.

They are slowly pried away by the doctor. They sit beside my bed now, looking at me silently, seriously. Just looking.

Finally, mom speaks up first.

"Honey, you were in an accident. Your leg is..." she trails off.

I wait for her to finish her sentence, but she doesn't.

"Broken.", I complete.

"Yes", she replies sadly.

After a few moments of utter, awkward silence, mom and dad go outside.

All I could possibly do is sit around and mope about my leg all day, so I ask mom to bring some books for me to read on her next visit. She says okay.

I spend hour after hour reading my books, making up for all the time they were left on a shelf to collect dust.

Finally, the day on which I am to be discharged from the hospital comes. I'm still in crutches, but not complaining since I'm finally getting out of that hellhole.

Walking on the wooden crutches seems uncomfortable, unnatural.

When I'm finally home and in my room, I allow myself to think about the accident. Specifically, I force myself to think about that crack I heard just before the crash.

For some reason, it just sticks out in my memory.

Call me crazy, but I think it had something to do with the accident.

What was it? Was it just my imagination? Why was it just before the crash?

I dismiss all my theories, shaking my head, except for one.

Maybe it was my imagination.

I look towards the mirror. And that's when I see it- a thin, crooked line dividing the mirror into several parts.

The first crack in the mirror.