The Broken Mirror {COMPLETED}

All I Want For Christmas... Is to Be Left Alone

I don't know if it is being homesick or fear but looking up at the height of my childhood home has me feeling overwhelmed. I take a deep breath and enter the familiar foyer of my New York City home. It's been more than six months since I've been here.

The doorman winks and greets me with the warmest, "Hello, Ms. Alexander." I catch up with him, hoping to stall having to go upstairs. When I can no longer wait, I get into the elevator and slide my key in and press the button for one of the penthouses. It rides up and lands on my floor.

The floors and walls are still a pristine white, with black molding and silver vases everywhere with the most beautiful plants. Only my family lives on this floor. Before I can open the door, it flies open with my father standing there.

"Merry Christmas Si!" My dad yells when he sees me. I run up to him and hug him. Things have gotten better with him since Thanksgiving. We speak to each other every day and he's been sending me demos and things to new projects. Later, today he said we would go to the studio to record music for next year's Christmas album.

I walk inside the apartment and it looks like a Winter Wonderland. My mother is hounding the staff about where to put things. Tomorrow is our annual Christmas eve party. It will be the most elitist looking shindig you will ever see. Billionaires and Millionaires partying, pretending they understand the meaning of Christmas when it is just a time for them to get as materialistic as possible.

"I see she's in Christmas Craziness phase," I say.

"When isn't she in a crazy phase?" My father jokes. I giggle at his response. I am quite sure he still loves her, but their marriage is more a business arrangement now. She manages him, he helps to elevate her status in life. They are friends, though, which I guess is what keeps the relationship together. They never look unhappy with each other, but that is in recent years.

"I am going to go into my room before she spots me and makes me decorate," I half-joke. She would start making me decorate.

"Good idea! I won't tell her you're here just yet," he promises. I giggle, again, and give him one more hug. I walk down the hallway to get to my bedroom. I walk past Calypso's door and stop. I take a deep breath and open the door to her bedroom.

A person would think she still lived here. Nothing was moved in her room from the day she died. Even her laundry was left in her hamper. It is a makeshift museum for her life. The need to feel numb overwhelms me. Why did I drive home that day? Maybe, if I hadn't fought her, she would still be here. They said her heart was too weak.

Her heart was going through it with the Adderall and Bulimia she suffered from. It was a simple surgery. I should be dead. She should be mourning me right now. She was not driving. I deserve to be the one dead, not her, and that's what was going to happen. I touch where my scar is. I feel an arm wrap around me, and a chin sits on top of my shoulder.

"I missed you, too bro," I quietly say to him. I can feel him smiling on my shoulder.

"Oh, I know. You tell me every day," he responds. In a somber voice he says, "and I miss her." I turn and kiss his cheek. I grab his hand and pull him to his room.

"Okay, the Christmas party is tomorrow. You know the deal, I need to be caught up on all the gossip because I will be stuck with all of New York's richest vultures," I say sitting on his bed. He fills me in on everything that has been going on. "The last thing, I need to know, what's it going to be like for me tomorrow?" I used to not care about what they thought of me, but something changed.

"You are the juiciest gossip; I can say that. You deserve your own hashtag, there has been so much buzz," he tells me.

"That's what I have been worried about."