Mirrors ~ Reflects *B1*

Chapter 1

Camille did not know how long it had been like that, how long had been the endless routine that made a puppet, like all the others who lived in this gray and austere city. The incessant ringtones of the alarm clock in the morning that pierced her ears, the raspy slice of bread on her tongue. The same people every day, pulling sententiously, always the same replicas. Obstinate. Every week, every month, they ran without a single real smile, without a single real emotion, without Camille feeling anything. Her life, she had made herself there as one is institutionalized. A toy in the hands of the great, a lure to happiness that never appears.

His knife remained stuck in the piece of butter barely out of the fridge. She was not hungry, nor did she feel anything for the man sitting in front of her who was paying more attention to his carefully buttered toast than to his wife, who had just entered the room. The friend of his mother, whom Camille had stopped seeing as his boyfriend and saw him more like a sententious guru who dictated the desires and desires of his mother.

- Hello Charles, hello Camille murmured the mother of Camille leaning on the back of a chair.

She was not going well, it was obvious. Everyone refused to see it, even Camille. She stand up to go kiss her mother who blocked her with a trembling but firm hand. Camille saw her bones contract under the thin layer of translucent skin that covered them, while her mother put them in her mouth to quell a noisy, dry cough. When she opened her hand, there was blood. But Camille did not see it and open the medicine cabinet.

- You should cover yourself more mom, you're still sick and it could get worse if you expose yourself to cold. Camille said, wiping his mouth.

She took a little box out of the closet and examined it carefully. Turning in all directions she finally turned with a sigh.

- Your medicines are out of date. You need new ones.

- Orphane, I made you an appointment with Dr. Willis. At last decided to speak Charles, as if every word he spoke cost him a year of his poor life. He will give you a prescription, and you may be able to get better.

Camille frowned as she heard her stepfather. Her mother had anorexia nervosa since she was born. Although she was young, her movements now resembled those of a grandmother than those of a 30-year-old woman. 30 years old, double the age of her daughter. Camille was 15 years old today, but that nobody talked about it, as if her birth was a taboo. Because of her maybe her mother could not live normally because she had raised her. Maybe they had only forgotten her.

They have not forgotten, they know. They know you will not have a happy birthday.

Camille chased away the voice that spoke toher, shaking his head. No. That voice was harrowing. That too, everyone did not care, Camille did not speak, it would probably take for a crazy. She was crazy. If someone wanted to harass her, it would not be in her head. We can not get into people's heads.

- Camille? Can you pass me the bottle of water please? Her mother breathed.

Camille looked for the bottle : not on the stove, not on the sink. She was on the table, right next to her mother's elbow. She did not even bother to answer and just put her finger to the bottle. His mother did not realize and looked at his elbow.

Please, do not let the bottle fall!

Orphane moved his elbow. The bottle fell. Camille rolled her eyes. She picked up the bottle and handed it to her mother. Then she sat down. Without a sound, and a new silence reigned as if shame against themselves, the shame of their own lives - the life they would like to escape - had reduced their words to nothing.

Camille, exasperated, stood up.

- I'm going to school.

She came out of the kitchen and went to the other end of the apartment, there were stored in the closet, all his things: two pairs of damaged shoes, her bike, and her bag. She tied her laces and looked at herself one last time in the mirror. Camille was beautiful for her 15 years, she knew it. Yet she had no friends, she did not want them. Just maybe, a boy named Jacob. From time to time, he would send him copies of the next exams in exchange for a little money. That was all. Nobody bothered her, she was invisible. It was barely enough if the teachers did not call him to check the number of students. "When was she going to get out of that rat hole? "

Plunged into her thoughts, she returned to reality to tie a black ribbon around her hair that had fallen until then, in a brown and curly waterfall that went down to her pelvis. When suddenly her reflection spoke to her. Her reflection spoke to her ...

Today, everything begins.

Camille rubbed her eyes. It was not the first time obviously, the last time his reflection had sung a lullaby. She put it on the account of madness. But this ! There she had seen. She had seen the lips, her lips moving in her reflection as she ... Nothing, she had not moved an inch. What was that? Stack at the wrong time, his phone rang

-          And shit! Raged Camille feverishly took her phone between her hands.

Unidentified number

An ad, she hastened to press the button to hang up. All this had made him forget the most important thing: the school ! She went back to open the closet again to get her bag. What a waste of time ! Camille sighed; she would take care of the mirror talking tonight after class. Now, his only concern was to arrive at school on time to avoid glue time. However, as soon as she entered the door, it was the black hole.