Death is Black and White

"I can't find it...I can't find it..." I whisper and frantically dump the contents out of my sock drawer, turning every sock inside out then back again to find the Lotty's answers from Halloween night.

"Shit, shit, shit," I say under my breath. "MOM!"

She shows up in my doorway, looking tired. "What the hell are you doing Lydia Marie? I just cleaned your room yesterday when you were gone! But of course, you can't keep things nice for--"

"Mom!" I interrupt, exasperated. "I'll clean it up, God!"

"Don't--"

"Say the Lord's name in vain. Sorry," I finish for her dully, not really feeling any remorse.

She looks like she's going to get hives from the mess I'm making. "What did you want?"

"I was wondering if you had taken anything out of my sock drawer when you cleaned my room. Like a small piece of paper with a few words on it?"

I cross my fingers behind my back hopefully. "No, I did not."

She starts to back out of the room and I heave a big sigh. "Okay," I groan, getting ready to start looking somewhere else.

"Well I don't know what to tell you, Lyd! There's a lot of things I need to be doing right now, and keeping track of your things isn't really on the top of my list! Maybe you can go to work for me, maybe you can cook dinner, maybe you can start cleaning my room when I'm gone! I don't think you..."

I roll my eyes and stop listening. My mom likes to drag things on and on and on and on and on until her voice box pops or at least until she can find something else to be dissatisfied with. She's so fucking melodramatic, it's ridiculous. Aren't I, the raging teenager, supposed to be the one who makes a big deal about everything? Unlike my mom, I don't always have to be innocent, or right for that matter.

So far I haven't found anything, so I start reassembling my sock drawer and my phone rings. "Shit, it's Sam..." I mutter and pick up the phone. I don't want to tell her about the lost paper. I don't know what she'll even do.

"Hey," I say into the speaker.

"Hey Lyd," Sam's voice rings out into my ear. "Are you home from your Dad's yet? I want to hang out, I'm having Lydia withdrawal."

"Umm.." I lift up my pillow and pull back my sheets on my bed. Still nothing there. "Yeah, I just got home a bit ago. I can get to your house in like 10 minutes if I leave soon."

There's a pause. I have to squint to see under my bed because of the overcast sky only letting in a milky glow through my window. I hate this weather, because I refuse to turn my lights on during the day since I can't stand the mixture of natural light and fluorescent, even if it's not sunny out. I stretch my arm out as far as it will go under the bed and pat around, feeling for paper. Nothing.

"Well," Sam says. "I was hoping maybe we could hang out at your house. Maybe, if you're not already sick of this, we could figure out some more information on Lotty."

I sit up and hit my head on the bed frame. "Ow. Sorry, I mean yeah, that's fine. I've actually been waiting all weekend to get home so I can figure out all this shit. I even made a list!"

Sam laughs, probably from excitement because she does that a lot. "Shocker," she says (It's true, I'm always making lists...). "I'll be over in a little bit okay?"

I scan the room one more time. "All right, I'll just--" my eyes skirt over the mirror at my reflection. Behind me...that mutilated little girl, sitting on my bed, blood staining my sheets and staring blankly at my reflection with her head cocked to the side. My throat closes up.

"Sam, I gotta go," I croak and hang up the phone. My eyes don't leave the mirror, and we stare at each other for one minute, two, five, ten, fifteen, without talking.

I finally find my voice. I whisper, "...Lotty?"

A small smile reaches the little girl's cracked lips. I can't smile though. Terror freezes my body, but excitement keeps me going. Lotty bobs her head slowly, like she's listening to a catchy song. It's freaking the hell out of me. Suddenly she stops.

"Lotty, I'm going to turn around, okay? I'm going to look at you face to face. Don't move, okay?" I talk softly, her presence is intoxicatingly terrifying. She nods the slightest nod possible, and her lip starts to bleed.

I turn around slowly and face the girl on my bed. She's tiny, at least eight years old. Maybe nine. But the girl I see in front of my eyes is not the same girl in my mirror. Her hair is golden blonde and not brown, there is not blood in it, her eyes are amber and not black, her dress is clean with lace and she's wearing white stockings without holes. She looks like she belongs in the nineteenth century. She could be real if not for the grayness around her, like she's on the fringe of being colorless.

"Your hair is tangled," is all I say. She smiles warmly and plays with the hem of her dress. Nothing moves but her hands. It looks...unnatural.

Here, I reach for my night stand and set my hairbrush a foot away from her on the bed. I don't want to touch her. The temperature plunges at least ten degrees around her small body. To my surprise, she takes it. Lotty runs the brush through the tangles and her curls bounce back up, shiny and new. I smile.

"Lotty, can you talk?"

She doesn't answer, just keeps combing her hair.

I wait. "Lotty? What did they ask you on Halloween night? Was that you who used the board?"

She stares at me and nods once.

"What did they ask you?"

I glance at the mirror. Demonic Lotty is brushing her hair, chunks of it come off in the bristles of the brush, followed by bits of gnarled flesh. I gasp and turn back.

Lotty giggles, high pitched and echoed. I sit up more and she opens her mouth.

Instead of words, dry whispers fly out of her mouth, incoherent and smooth. I feel as if there are multiple Lottys that are gasping words played backwards, and my skin prickles. Her mouth moves so quickly that it looks like a blur. I back away.

Her body starts to shake and she holds out her hand. I shake my head, I don't want to go near her. I want to leave, I don't want to look at the mirror but I have to... I peak over. Mirror Lotty is screaming and writhing with a sick smile pasted on her scarred face. I cover my ears, but the whispering is in my head, I can hear her screaming faintly, I can hear it in the whisper...

Suddenly it all stops. I look up and hold my breath. She's stopped, but her arm is still outstretched, holding a small, yellow paper. "No..." I whisper. "You...?"

She nods and glances down at the paper. Shit. She wants me to take it. "Lotty..."

She raises her little eyebrows and looks down again. "Lotty I can't." But I need to...

She stares at me intently, almost angrily. She opens her mouth again and I get up. "Okay..."I squeak and quickly snatch the paper out of her hand. She giggles again and, with a final, ear-piercing scream like shattering glass, is gone.