On the Other Side of Glass

Chapter Four

I was only unconscious for a minute. The room went dark and then it was back but it was long enough to leave me disoriented and lost. I slowly stood up, my head still pulsing with a headache, but I was no longer dizzy or nauseous.

I saw the glass on the floor and the memories flooded my mind, making me sway. I shook my head, my hair falling in my eyes. "No," I whispered to the quiet house. "No." The world was working in slow motion and it was abstract. The world seemed to flaunt my tragedy in front of my eyes, the color that Cedar painted fading away as the weight of my situation fell upon my shoulders.

It was suffocating. I couldn't breathe. My heart raced too fast and my vision went fuzzy. The silence seemed to engulf me and I disconnected from myself, gasping for breath. I was back on the floor. I sat down on the wood, vaguely feeling the pain of broken glass digging into my hand.

Gone. She fell through a mirror. No one will believe you. This only happens in books, not in your life. She's in danger. Sephtis- death. You can't breathe. The world is falling apart.

I closed my eyes. The room stopped being fuzzy and the light filtered through my eyelids, making me focus. I could feel the wood under my fingers and the pain of the glass in my hand. I sat there for a while, allowing the pain to keep me focused. When I could breathe and stopped thinking, I stood up and opened my eyes. My hand was bleeding but the cut wasn't deep. I looked around for something to wrap it with and my eyes fell on Cedar's bag, laying by the door.

There was a notebook inside. She never went anywhere without it. She loved stories and would write her favorite quotes inside. She needed a new one but refused to let this one go. I was going to get another for her birthday- August 12. Inside the pages, she pressed the flowers we found in the field behind her house. A four-leaf clover I gave to her and a small sunflower that never got to reach its full potential.

I picked up her bag with my good hand and started for the stairs. The door was closed and it felt strange being on this side of that closed door. I unlocked it and left, closing it behind me. Key under the fourth rock to the left. I locked the door before returning home to find my father sitting at the kitchen table.

He looked up when I walked into the house and his eyes immediately fell on Cedar's bag and my hand. "What happened? Where's Cedar?"

"She's-" I started but froze. I coughed, "She's at home." I entered the kitchen, kicking the door closed and grabbing an old towel to wrap my hand.

"What happened to your hand?" My father asked, standing up from the table.

"A mirror broke and I cut myself," I replied shortly. I grabbed some medicine for my steady headache, pouring two pills into my hand.

"You have bruises on your shoulder. What happened, Killean?" My dad turned me to face him and looked in my eyes.

"I got into a fight. Protecting her," I lied softly, shying away from his touch and gaze. The days when he was home were always worse than when he was working.

"Who attacked her?"

"A guy who was a lot stronger than me. Can I go to my room? I'm tired."

My dad sighed in defeat, knowing I wasn't going to tell him. "Yeah. Sure. Just make sure you take care of your hand first."

"It's fine," I said shortly and disappeared down the hall to my room, closing the door and leaning against it. My headache slowly ebbed away and the throbbing in my hand became less noticeable. I closed my eyes and played the day in my head over and over.

She was gone. I didn't know how to find her. She was gone.

I began to cry. It had been years since I cried. I had felt sadness and anger and emptiness, but I hadn't cried since my mother left. I had decided I would be stronger than she was. It was quiet sobs, but my shoulders shook and I couldn't catch my breath. They ebbed within moments and I went across the hall to the bathroom.

Cold water on a fresh wound was a combination of pain and shock. The water rushed over my palm for a long time until the cold became warm and freezing wasn't cold enough. I patted it dry and let it air, not bothering to put a restricting bandage on it.

I was laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The grooves of the plaster suddenly blurred and disappeared into a blob of white. I closed my eyes to fight against the light and the blurs and the pain and the overwhelming sense that I failed. Eventually, I fall asleep.

I don't leave my room until Monday morning when my father opens the door and wakes me up. My head is healed, but my hand still throbbed when I moved it.

"Come on, K, get up for school."

"I'm not going."

"Yes, you are. You have to get up. Go see Cedar and get out of your room," he said, pulling the blankets off my body and urging me to get up.

"How would you know?" I snapped, sitting up. "How would you know where I have been. All you do is work and push people away."

He stepped back and dropped his hand, "Get up, Killean. Go." He turned and walked out of my room, leaving the door open.

I pulled myself out of bed and put on a pair of jeans with a simple button up that Cedar loved. My backpack was ready and sitting by my door so I picked it up and left my house without a bit to eat or a word to my father. My attention was instantly drawn to Cedar's house where it was unusually quiet- unusual to me. I knew that Cedar should be bounding out the door with a wave to her godfather to walk with me the four blocks to school. Her curls would be pulled out of her face until we got to school where she would let them fall down her back and her smile would greet the friends she had made over the years.

I shook my head and walked with my head down towards the school. The sun just rose on the horizon and the streets beside me buzzed with the traffic of parents driving their children to school and then heading to work as well as buses transporting students. I was exhausting, walking without Cedar. She always shone a light on the walks and made then bearable no matter the weather. Again, I felt a pang of pain in remembering where she should be and curiosity about where she was.

I noticed a pair of feet headed towards me and then suddenly there was an impact. I was startled but when I lifted my eyes, he was looking down too-

"Oh my gosh. I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention," he chuckled nervously, looking at me.

"It's fine, neither was I. Sorry." I realized I'd been holding my injured hand closer to me and I dropped it.

His gaze shifted to my hand and he gasped, "What happened?"

"Nothing," I mutter, pulling it back towards me.

"Something had to happen. Hands typically don't just split open like that."

"I cut myself on a mirror."

"Yeah, but why is your hand glowing?"

Startled, I look down to see the tender flesh slightly inflamed but no glow or strange substance about it. "It's not."

The man replied with absolute certainty, "Yes. It is."