[Mirror Me Series Book 1]
Hope Martinez was taught to fear her reflection, but the magical world on the other side is too tempting. Descended from those who can use mirrors as weapons, Hope has many dangers to face if she wants to get home before a...
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"There is nothing wrong with your daughter," said the emergency room doctor to my mother as he finished examining my blue eyes with his pinlight. He grabbed my wrists, but I quickly yanked them back. The doctor smiled. "Just a hair full of glass," he added, using a tweezer to pick the last three bits of broken mirror out of my dark hair.
"Are you sure, doctor?" questioned my mother. She wrapped her fluffy nightgown over her bare legs. Unlike the big waiting area outside, the air in this small room was deathly cold. She scooted to the edge of her seat. "You didn't check everything. Run another test."
The doctor removed his glasses.
"Mrs. Martinez, your daughter is perfectly normal. She has some cuts from the glass falling on her, but nothing that appears to be self inflicted. I could set up a psychological evaluation with a psychiatrist if you think it necessary, yet from what you told me and what I see, Hope just had a rough night. The mirror must have fallen when she opened the door too fast and shattered when it hit the ground. And the light she saw in the room, I suspect it was just a crack of lightning nearby. She panicked and had a small anxiety attack. Nothing to worry about."
"But she saw something inside. She was screaming about a boy in the mirror and voices. There has to be a rational explanation or a fix. Maybe it's a phobia that can be treated with medicine. A fear of mirrors, that's it. What's that phobia called."
The doctor checked his phone.
"Eisoptrophobia," he responded, glancing up. "But I doubt that is the reason. We don't even prescribe medicine for that. Like I said, I know a good psychiatrist, but there is nothing more I can do here."
"You're not listening, doctor." My mother furiously waved a finger; her voice growing louder and angrier. "I would think a man like you would understand what is happening to my daughter."
"I repeat myself, Mrs. Martinez. There is nothing wrong with your daughter. Just a bad night."
My mom brushed the hair out of her face. She normally did not walk around in public without makeup and her hair fixed up, but being that it was two in the morning, I figured she did not care about appearances.
"I brought my daughter here so we could stop this before it gets worse."
"Gets worse?" The doctor tilted his head. "I seriously doubt--"
"I made it up," I said suddenly. Both the doctor and my mother turned to me. My mother's glare burned my insides. I hopped off the examining chair. "I didn't see anything. It happened like the doctor said. Now can we go home?"
"Well there you have it," said the doctor, standing from his stool. "A thirteen year old with a wild imagination." The doctor patted my shoulder. "A most logical explanation."
My mother sighed. Her arms dropped to her side as she stood, defeated.
"Very well," she said, throwing her purse's strap over her shoulder. "I appreciate your time, doctor. Sorry for this early morning foolishness."
