The Echo in the Mirror

Cold.

All I could feel when I woke up was the cold. My blanket, which was once covering my sleeping body from neck to toe was now crumpled up in a ball at the foot of the small bed pushed up against a wall.

I heard water coming from the sky going drip, drip, drop onto the muddied glass panel of the window, thunder clapping in the far distance. Clouds covered the already pitch-black sky, not allowing the moon to seep even the tiniest bit of it's light through to the houses below. Which was sad. I like moonlight.

It's the big ball of white in the blackness of the night, letting me know that I had not gone blind while in deep slumber. The light was soothing in a way the darkness wasn't, and the coolness was better for sleeping, unlike the daytime's heat. I've always loved the cool stillness of the night.

Thunder once again rumbled, a bit closer and louder than before.

Shivering, I sat up on the unsoft bed and placed my feet to floor, the freezing wooden boards causing a sudden jolt to go up my spine. I brought my arms up, hugging myself to try and preserve whatever body heat I had left, not that I had all that much left, thanks to the dreaded nighttime cold.

The big ball of white in the sky disturbed the beautiful obsidian sky, making me all the more aware that it was, in fact, the time of day which I despised. The cold made it nearly impossible to sleep soundly, and unbearable when I did fall into a restless slumber. The moonlight shining directly into my eyes didn't help me sleep well, either. I always awoke frozen in my bed, the stillness of the night making it so I believe my ears stopped working in my sleep, unlike what would happen during the lovely warmth of the day, birds chirping happily outside my window acting as a sort of soft alarm for awakening. I've always hated the cold stillness of the night.

It wasn't like I didn't like the cold of the night or the heat of the day, I just preferred that certain temperature that was neither cold nor warm, but just right for any time of day or night. It was the same with night and day in general. Both were good for some things, and not suitable for other things. It mostly depended on my mood; A mood that changes with regularity and is exceptionally unpredictable, even to me.

The thunder in the background was casually growing louder and louder, closer and closer; the rain accompanying it growing harder and harder with each passing second. It was now coming down so rapidly that I couldn't see anything beyond my window. It was less muddy now since it was getting a thorough washing.

When the first bolt of lightning appeared, I somehow found myself standing in the center of the tiny bedroom me to stay in. My stay here was only temporary, though; They would come for us in the morning.

Then again, I had been here longer than I had originally expected. I wasn't even sure what this place was, exactly. People in white clothing came in every once in a while to check on me and give me food to eat. The food wasn't too bad. It reminded me of my mother's cooking before I was brought here.

Mom's cooking was the best in the world. Nothing could beat it, except maybe Grandma's. It was debatable.

Of course, there were those few times when I was little that Mom's cooking skill needed a ton of work. She nearly caught the entire house on fire trying to simply boil water. Grandma wouldn't let her anywhere near a stove for three full months after the incident. It was hilarious to watch.

We giggled at the memory.

Thunder rumbled loudly as the small sound that spilled from my lips slowly grew in volume, soon tuning itself to become loud enough to compete with the rolling booms that lingered for seconds longer than they originally had, competing against my vocals to see who was the loudest.

Growing bored of the game after a few minutes, I became silent began to wonder about the time. The moon had sunk in the sky a bit more, or at least I presumed it did since the rain continued to torture us with a blurry few of the wonderous outside marvels of the night.

These restless nights had started to become a regular occurrence several weeks into my stay here. Time seemed to pass me by as I sat and stared at absolutely nothing for hours and sometimes days on end. It was scary when those times turned up again, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The clock on the wall stopped ticking forever ago. I never knew what it was supposed to read, but it really didn't matter. It didn't stop us from entertaining ourselves.

How long had I been up now? It feels like years, though another part of my mind told me it had only been a few minutes since I stood up from the shivering cold bed.

Lightning lit up the room again, thunder rolling in barely a second later. My feet were planted firmly on the wooden floor, unwilling to move from their spot. My eyes were trained on the window, silently watching the raindrops smack against the window panes several hundred drops at a time.

What would happen to us if nobody showed up when they were supposed to? I wasn't sure if I would make it out of this maddening place alive if I had to stay another day. Perhaps I should just run away from this place. Start a new life somewhere in the world, where nobody can find me. Running away and never looking back sounded like a fantastic idea.

My head titled as the next bolt struck, booms following it just like all the other times, only a tiny bit quieter. The storm must be passing.

But, then again, just ending it all would be fun too. Especially if I took this entire place with me. Burn it all up in a fiery ball of flames that not even rain can put out, leaving only an ugly blackened mess in the end. I could get payback for all those terrible meals they kept giving us to feast upon.

Or, we could simply run away. The others that live here never truly did anything to us, and thus they are undeserving of death. Plus, if we die, then we won't be able to live our own life again.

Burning this place to a crispy black would, no doubt, solve a lot of our problems. Why don't we set the place ablaze then run for it?

The loudest thunder of the storm boomed just then, shaking the house a bit as well as serving as my way out of my thoughts.

I turned my body, walking over towards the small vanity that sat across the small room from the bed. My thoughts could go into unsavory places sometimes, and it was starting to become concerning. It was as though I wasn't always in control of them, even though that would be preposterous. Who wouldn't be in control of their own thoughts?

Crazy people was the answer I came up with. And I certainly wasn't crazy... Was I? Maybe I should ask Mom to get me checked out once she comes to get me. She promised to come to get me in the morning.

Lightning lit up the room once again as I glanced into the slightly cracked mirror on the vanity. The reflection stared back at us with wide eyes. The face the stared at me couldn't've belonged to me.

It was the reflection of our former self. The person we used to look like before we were sent here. Sent here like a crazy person of the verge of madness. This wasn't us. This couldn't've been us. We were different.

We screamed for it was terrifying to finally face the reality of what we were; of what we had become.

This was the echo of our former person.

It was the echo in the mirror.