Mirror Me

27: Whispers in the Night

I raised my cell phone up to my eyes. Clicking the power button, the broken screen came to life. A picture of Marcus shown bright; his smile a welcoming reminder of home. I quickly unlocked the screen. Just days ago Marcus was the only boy I ever liked. Now I was having feelings for Owen. I laughed in my throat. "The first two boys that tell you they like you, you start to have feelings for. What is wrong with you, Hope? Get it together. You can't be with Owen. He is your reflection." A notification popped up on the screen stating low battery. "Damn it," I whispered. "I'm sure there is no chargers or electrical outlets in Tartarus." I jumped swiftly to my photos as I had done countless nights before. Most of my photos were of cats in funny poses or outfits. I scrolled through until I found one with my mother eating ice cream and smiling. The next one showed Laura making a funny face with a bit of ice cream on her nose. I giggled. I turned to another photo showing a selfie my abuelita had taken of herself trying to be cool. I noticed my grandmother's white bathrobe and remembered she snapped the photo on the day we did manicures and pedicures on each other. I chose a bright almost highlighter yellow for my nails, a poor choice in color on my part for the next day at school the snobby girls definitely noticed.

"What an ugly color," said Nancy Meyers.

"Ugh. It hurts my eyes," said Trinity Marks. I removed the color at recess feeling ashamed with myself. I never did my nails again after that.

Scrolling through even more photos of cats, I soon came upon a picture that always forced tears from my eyes. It was the last picture I took of my father before he died. The picture, while not a good one of him for he was a handsome man, had special meaning behind it. It showed him seated on the couch reading his newspaper and nothing more. The picture became special to me because it was not staged or planned like the others. The photo showed my father in the most natural way possible. Nothing extreme with fancy filters or photo edits, just a man enjoying his newspaper. I had looked at the photo many times, praying that perhaps my father would turn from the paper and look up at me through the photo, but no matter how hard I wished, the photo could never change, never be retaken. I stared at the picture until my phone finally died and the screen grew black. Even in the darkness I could still see him seated there as if waiting for me to come home. I placed the phone on my chest and hugged it tightly until at last I fell asleep.

The breeze outside vibrated the cloth sides of my tent. Crackling of the fire nearby, the chirping of insects, and the smell of smoke gave the little space a cozy feel. While the blanket around me was course, I gently pressed it against my chin imagining it to be a cat or a dog that had come to snuggle up. I breathed deeply. My mind began to move in and out of dreams. All felt as it should be, good and quiet, that is until the breeze outside stopped and the fire quieted down. The insects even grew fainter in their chatter. A dreadful silence entered my dreams followed by a soft whisper of a woman's voice.

"Hope, can you hear me?" it whispered. "You must get up. You must get up." I turned over in my sleep. My small mirror slid out of my pocket and landed on the ground. In its reflective surface a weak glow of light filtered through the darkness as another whisper pierced the silent air. "Hope, please get up. You are in danger." The light grew a little brighter. "Get up! RUN!" it screamed. I bolted awake just in time to see the light fade from the mirror.