CELLOPHANE- Ginny Weasley

chapter one: the mirrors haunt me

Danica Finch has never felt especially happy in her life. Sure, there were times when she would smile so wide her cheeks hurt or laughed until she couldn't anymore, but even through those times there had always been an underlying feeling of sadness that never seemed to subside.

It was worse now than it ever had been, the sick, sad monster that draped itself over her. It wrapped her in despair, suffocated her in pure loneliness. It made sense. After all, Danica Finch had buried her brother three days prior, and nobody expected anything from her anymore. She hadn't been a fully functional human being, not since she heard the news. Her twin brother, her other half, simply gone. Without any last words, no proper goodbye. He was there for a second, smiling as he fought off a Death Eater. Laughing, even. He had always been a good wizard, quick with defensive spells. 

Nothing wipes the smile from your face like the green light of death. Danica doesn't really remember that part, though. She remembers his face, his smile, the crinkle of his eyes. The crinkles in his forehead, the dimple in his chin. She can remember that. She thinks it would hurt too much to remember the rest.

She hasn't seen her parents since the funeral. They would barely look her in the eye as the priest began to talk, pretending as if she didn't exist. She spent the entire time wanting to scream, staring down at the big black hole her brother was to be lowered into. She didn't force them to look, though. She had always been told how much she'd looked like him, and she didn't think hurting her parents more than she already had would be a good idea. She didn't manage to catch a single word the priest had said, tuning everything out. Her knee bounced up and down furiously, as she recalled everything her brother had ever said to her. 

She caught the eyes of some of her schoolmates. They gave her sympathetic looks. She always gave them a soft smile back, not wanting to bother them, or make them worry. Today wasn't about her, it was about him. And they needn't worry, she could deal with herself.

But it was days like the following after the funeral that made Danica want to put a pistol to her head and pull the trigger. 

People filtered in and out of her apartment, telling her how sorry they were, how great her brother was, how noble or kind  or funny. Danica wanted to say "I know". Instead, she gives them a grief-filled look and says "Thank you". Because what else is there to say? It should've been me? Because sure, Danica was thinking it, and other people might have done the same, but who was brave enough to utter the words aloud? Not Danica, that's for sure.

So instead of saying what everyone else is thinking, Danica stays quiet. It's better this way. She'd always been the more awkward twin, less social and more prone to staying silent and letting her brother have the spotlight.

There was yet another reason it should have been Danica to die. Her brother would have mourned her beautifully, she just knows it. He would say all the right things, pick the right flowers, make sure her headstone said something she would have liked. 

Her brother would've done everything a million times better than Danica could ever dream. Her parents knew it, she knew it. Her other siblings knew it, too. She'd always been the fuck up, so of course she also had to fuck up dying in the place of her brother.

Danica hasn't gone into work in a month. She's lucky the people she works with are sympathetic, but they're starting to leave messages wondering where she is. She knows that she can't hide out in her apartment by herself forever, and that she will eventually have to go back to the office, see her co-workers again and try and gain some semblance of a new normalcy in her life. The thing is, she can't bring herself to care anymore, and most things have started to lose meaning. Everything is work. Breathing is work, eating is work, living is work. Danica doesn't want to care. She doesn't want to feel the emotions that threaten her every night as she stares at the ceiling in the quiet. Danica doesn't want the responsibility of living anymore. 

She sometimes wonders if she may be dying. If God was that merciful, that he would grant her a release from the grips of reality, that now that her brother was gone, that if she tried hard enough, wanted it badly enough if she could will herself to simply drop dead, out of nowhere. Danica hasn't been so lucky yet.

Danica stands from her bed, her greasy hair tangled and matted down her back. She's lost a lot of weight, she hasn't eaten anything in weeks. She walks into the bathroom, the mirror covered with a towel, and starts the bathtub. The bath has always been a special place for Danica. It's the only place she felt she could truly think, sitting in the cold ceramic, filled with warm water and bubbles. 

Danica doesn't look at the water, instead she takes a capful of bubble bath and empties it into the claw-footed tub. When she gets in, her whole body relaxes, and she lies her head back. 

Breathing deeply, Danica allows her thoughts to finally wander. They don't go to any good place. Flashes of green light, haunting visions of her brother, returned from the dead to wring her neck and bring her down to hell because she didn't die with him. 

They'd promised each other they'd always be there. Twins, together forever. Danica can't even say his name, can't think about it. She can only see his face, his disappointed face staring her even when she tries to turn away. He's lurking, right below the surface, always coming back to haunt her. This wasn't what she meant when she'd promised forever, it really wasn't.

The dread that coated the inside of her stomach, twisted and turned like a snake burrowing deep into her did not go away after the funeral, nor two weeks later when it was all over. Instead, it made a home. A permanent residence, a constant sense of foreboding, unrelenting and strong in its waves. Danica was well and truly drowning in the unease that clung to her. 

Danica has a reason though, for all the feelings of anxiety and craziness inside of her head. There's a reason she can't pass by a mirror without jumping, why she covers her mirrors with sheets. The answer lies in the promise she made all those many years ago, when she was just a girl and her brother was just a young boy. It lay in the words she spoke, their pinkies intertwined as she said "Always and forever, Thomas." 

That promise would follow her for the rest of her days, even after death.

Danica pulls the sheet from the mirror, and she's not surprised at the man standing behind her anymore. Instead, she begins to tremble and her eyes well with tears as Thomas Finch's figure stands tall and proud, emotionlessly staring into the mirror. His eyes glow a soft green, and make it impossible to see the rest of his face. Danica looks at the hand placed on her shoulder, and she grasps at the air where he stands. She doesn't sob like she so desperately wants to. Instead, she stares at herself, and leaves the hand on her shoulder. She feels less alone this way, standing by herself, stroking the spot where her brother is touching her.

Danica Finch had never really believed in ghosts before. Now, she lived with one.

author's note: hey guys I hope u liked this chapter!!!!! and if you couldn't tell Danica might have some #issues and also I got some inspiration for her character from Dani from Bly Manor:) Anyways I would love to hear feedback or anything you guys have too say!!