Chapter One: How Pure?

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  • Dedicated to Tepa Yang and Kelsey Beauchamp
                                    

           I see him. He’s more real than the world I’m touching. These four walls around me are the only world I’ve seen and touched in seven months. These walls are white and pure looking in the pale light that floods in, from the narrow window, in multiple strings of dancing sunlight. As that crosses my mind, I swiftly drape the dark pigmented curtain in front of the small window.

          Worldly object scattered around the room clutter my thought process, keeping me from thinking straight, as it is intended to. But there is something in this condensed room that is not just an object. It is my reason. It is my secret. It’s my love. It’s my life.

          It’s a mirror.

It has 168 different patterns and designs delicately carved into the beautiful, antique, hardwood frame. It was me and Danny’s very first piece of property we shared. ‘An early wedding gift.’ is what his mother had said a year before he had ever even proposed. He stood there as his cheeks that were placed perfectly in his muscular, manly, perfect face, turned a light crimson. The mirror had been passed down for many generations. It was truly beautiful and flawless. Not a single crack or chip had been placed in it over the years. Pure.

          I wash it regularly so it never has streaks, smudges, and never collects dust .Everything else in the room remains covered in blankets of dust. I have little use for anything in this room, apart from the mirror. It’s precious to me. I used to use everything in this room. It was Danny’s and mine own bathroom. I used to always be able to turn trash into treasure. Danny said he loved that about me.

          Danny built this house for our bran new family when our daughter, Kaitlen, was 19 months old. Danny and Kaitlen made joy shine in my light green eyes. We had wanted a family ever since we said ‘I do’. We wanted to take our children’s little hands and walk them through childhood. We would teach them to love, to care, to think. We tried for our first child for a long three years and six months. So many miscarriages and negative pregnancy tests passed, tearing me to pieces. Five children never born. So many tears cried and frustration shown towards Danny. Yet, never once did our love as a married couple falter. Kaitlen was our blessing.

          I missed Danny. I fell into a depression that worried loved ones around me. The homicide departments still are utterly clueless to what occurred, other than the fact that he was murdered. A single bullet imbedded in his brain was the only thing left at the scene. No adjectives could possibly describe how much I missed him for the long two years he was gone. Those two years stretched so long and some how I managed to hold onto life.

          ‘Kathryn? Can you please come down here?’ Madison, my best friend, shouted up the stairs as if it were normal for me to give in to her, and make my way down to her. It’s so routine that there is no argument about it anymore. She says it as she’s caving, already halfway up the case of ivory carpeted stairs. Like always, I ignore her call and wait to hear her behind the door of the bathroom that I refuse to leave.

          I love this bathroom. My concentration aims for the tiles beneath my pale feet, as a flash of the past blurs through my eyes.

‘Ha, ha, Danny, cut it out!’ My voice slipped through my giggling smile as he scrapes the mortar he was putting down for the tiles to stick to, all over my calf. His deep laugh could never be forgotten.

‘Ha. C’mon, Ryn, it’s not that gross.’ He said while spreading more on the floor.

‘It’s so gritty, babe. And its gunna’ be a pain to get off.’ I replied, realizing that it had already started to dry, plastering my skin.

After, I watched him put in each tile, one by one. I can’t leave, I can’t leave these four walls. I want to stay her with Danny until I witness my last heartbeat. I can’t let the mirror out of my sight. I love Danny and cannot go back to the agony of his absence.

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