Reflection

That’s when the tunnel vision narrowed in and the room started to rotate around me. Unable to swallow the sandpaper in my mouth, I fell off the toilet and curled up against the wall. I pressed my face into the cool tile wall, which felt amazing on my over heated skin. My fingers curled into a fist, dragging my nails against the floor in desperation. “Fuck…” I heard myself gasp. I hadn’t said a word in almost a week, and it felt so good to hear my own voice. That’s when the pressure seemed to drain, and all at once I could breathe again. My head felt light and my limbs shook with relief, and I realized I was smiling. The tight skin of my lip opened the cut again, and the taste of blood flooded my senses. I sucked on my lip, dragging more of my life out through my lip. Maybe if I kept sucking, I’d bleed to death. I struggled to my feet, avoiding the mirror as I limped back to my room. He was coming, and I had to be ready. I gently eased my T-shirt over my head, exposing the bruises on my upper arm. I stared at them, mesmerized by their color. It was in the shape of a hand, you could even see his fingers. That was from one of the many times we had sex. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be like that, not that I’d know; because I’d only ever did it with him. Wasn’t it supposed to be something enjoyable and special?
My eyes grew heavy with exhaustion as I tried to make sense of all my thoughts. I dug through my draw looking for something decent to wear, pretending I actually had something that looked nice. Hidden away under tons of black shirts was something pink. I knew what it was instantly, and my chest ached with quiet sadness. I lifted it up and admired how cute it was, then let my eyes travel to the picture taped up next to my mirror. The picture was of two little girls, both in matching pink tops and sunglasses. Their faces were pushed together, happy smiles plastered on their faces. They looked like they could have been sisters, if someone who looked at this picture didn’t know better. I knew they weren’t, though, because it was a picture of my best friend and I wearing matching shirts. We got the identical shirts at the mall one day, and refused to take them off until one hundred people commented on us matching. It was hard to believe that the picture was taken only a few months ago. Her and I had changed so much since then, we couldn’t pass as sisters anymore.
He made me push her away, but the more I pushed her, the more she pushed back. I fucking missed her. I missed her stupid inappropriate comments and her signature giggle. I missed sitting on the swings at the park by her house with him, seeing who could go higher. I missed that I always won. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, this wasn’t right. Warm, salty tears dripped from my eyes as I pulled the pink top over my head. I sniffled and pulled on the bottom of it, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles. I hadn’t seen myself in any color besides black since the beginning of this year, it hurt my eyes.
I was just about to change when I heard someone knock on the door. I knew it was him right away, because he always knocked the same pattern every time. Fear, excitement, and a million other emotions hit me all at once and had to bite my tongue to keep from squealing. My exhaustion faded and I suddenly was on hyper alert. He knocked again, a little harder this time and I knew I couldn’t keep him waiting. I tried to walk calmly to the front door, but I couldn’t control my trembling. I pulled the door open with unnecessary force and held my breathe. He was smiling his wonderful grin. His eyes were blue like little crystals; sharp and full of emotions. My lips turned into a smile, and I tasted more blood. My mind went blank as he reached forward and pulled me in for a hug. I didn’t return it, but I buried my face into his neck; inhaling his wonderful scent.
I knew then exactly why I let it get to this point. I loved him, more then I could ever love myself. He was everything I’d ever need, I couldn’t see my life without him. He spun me around then, and led me into the house, shutting the door behind him. I swallowed hard as he presented me with a small box. I took it gingerly and opened, resisting the urge to cry when I saw the little heart necklace it held inside. I didn’t speak as he took it from the box and moved my hair so he could clip it on for me. No body would ever make me feel like he did. No one would ever want me around for this long. No body could ever stand me like he did. Looking past everything we’d been through, I remembered our good times, and was suddenly grateful. I threw my arms around his neck and pushed my lips against his. He didn’t pull away, but he carefully took my wrists in his hands and pried my arms away from his neck. He kissed me back for a few seconds, then pulled his face out of my reach. He was almost six inches taller then me already.
We stood there, like that; with me looking up at him, for a good five minutes. He leaned his head down towards my ear and whispered, “Happy thirteenth birthday.” Then he took my hand and led me to my bedroom. Helplessly, I followed; unable to see an alternative. My mind mentally retreated into itself, and I suddenly felt eerily peaceful; like somehow I knew I was going to be okay.
I’ll never be okay again.