Mirrors

Phoebe Willson.

The girl who never spoke, who never raised her hand, who never looked up from her shoes. The girl who wandered down the hallways in silence, and disappeared right after school. Barely anyone knew she existed, no one even knew her name.

Phoebe let the heavy rain soak her brunette hair as she waded through the large puddles that had begun to form near the entrance to her house. Old grey converse shoes smacked the warm water as Phoebe continued her long walk.

The front door was a unique red, but worn away and chipped. Pulling out her key, she jammed it in the lock and wiggled it around until the distinctive click noise sounded. The door opened with a familiar creak. Phoebe was greeted by the old, musky scent of her home as she stepped inside, swinging her drenched backpack onto the stair railing.

Stomping upstairs, Phoebe found herself staring at the door to the large room that she had tried time and time again to forget. Pushing the nagging urge to go in aside, she wandered into her room. An utterly bleak mess with torn curtains, an unmade bed, and a shattered mirror on the floor is what Phoebe called home, or what felt like it. She felt herself being drawn to the mirror’s broken pieces. The same calling had haunted her the night before, pulling her closer. Phoebe stationed herself onto her bed.The reflection showed the same things everyday. Tussled sheets, blank blue walls. But what still surprised Phoebe to see, even after numerous times, was her absence in the mirror

Like she really didn't exist at all.