Victoria Lygregh

The footsteps going down the stairs assured Victoria that she had done it again. Her mother always worried about the next time her daughter would do it, and when Victoria did, she would enter the attic. The words of the doctor echoed in her mind.
'Your daughter has gone mad, Mrs. Lygregh, she may never recover from her condition.'
She felt the ropes binding her to the bed as they dug into her skin. She was able to get the ropes off from around her wrists, she could slip right out of them, but the others were harder. First the rope around her chest would have to come off before she could reach the final rope holding her legs. That rope was always the tightest.
She remembered the first time her mother tied her to the bed, all the screaming for hours on end before she finally fell asleep.
The last rope came off and she gazed at the window. The bars were there, as always, keeping her from opening it.
She hated doctors.
She hated her mother.
***
Victoria was half way through her usual daily activities, cleaning mostly. She had just finished cleaning all of the downstairs rooms, and now moved onto the staircase.

“Victoria, I’m going out to the market to get this week’s food. Stay inside the house, and get this house clean before I return.”
“Yes mother.”
She heard the front door shut, followed by the click of the lock, and dropped the broom. She sat on the third stair from the bottom. She was locked in again. Every window had been locked with the key her mother kept with her, and now even the door was locked, all because of her 'condition'

A sound.
From the attic.
Victoria had a history of hearing or seeing things that were not actually there; this could be one of those times.
The sound came again.
What was it that her mother kept up there?
In her seventeen years of life, she had never once set foot in the attic. Her mother would occasionally enter and, with a cha-clink as the stairs retracted, she would leave again with nothing more, or less than when she had entered.
Victoria ran her fingers down the rope, gripping it. With one simple tug, her questions would become answers.
Just.
One.
Tug.
‘Pull it Victoria, Pull it!’
She obeyed the voice, not just because she was told to, but because she wanted the questions expunged from her mind. The stairs came down with a loud 'thunk’ as it hit the floor.
“Good thing mother is out.”
There was a musty scent of rotting wood and mould wafting down from the attic. Victoria savoured the last breath of fresh air she would have for a while, and then placed her foot on the first step.

From the top of the stairs, she could see evidence of age everywhere. Some things she knew where here, like toys from her childhood, but others she had never seen before. She stopped In the middle of the room.
Her eyes were set on a full length mirror. Its frame was old and splintering, but delightfully pleasant to observe. The glass seemed a little hazy, probably from age, but also had a small crack in the upper left corner that run just past the midpoint of the mirror, not yet separating it in two.
Her reflection appeared to be different from what she thought it should be, but it probably came down to the distortion in the mirror.
She reached out, placing her fingers against the cool glass. The reflection's hand did not follow.

“Vici, it’s nice to see you, finally.” Her reflection spoke. She stumbled back over an old wooden chest.
“Well, I knew your reaction would be bad, but I didn’t expect you to flee.”
Victoria gazed at her image from behind the chest. Her reflection still stood where it had been before. Could it even be called a reflection?
“W-what are you?”
“Well, you are Victoria, that would make me half of you, figuratively and literally,” The refection stepped back, and almost appeared to be perched on the chest, “I am Tori, everything you never were and nothing of what you are.”
“So... you are a mirror image of my life?”
“I’m more of the other side of your mind, the sane side.”
“I'm not insane, you are, and you’re the one who thinks they are...”
“You're the one talking to a mirror.”
Victoria wondered why her mother had this mirror in the attic. Was this the reason she was... mad? Her mother would kill her if she knew she had come up here.
Tori smiled
“I know your thoughts, Vici. As you, you are weak and fearful of your mother. You could be so much more!”
Victoria's gaze locked to Tori's eyes.
“As me, you could accomplish countless feats. You could do anything you set your mind to.”
“Anything...” Victoria though about her life; there was so much she wanted to do, but just couldn't. Her mother stopped her from doing anything.
Tori's smile changed, almost to a wicked grin, and opened her arms to start an embrace “So, Vici, what do you say?”
***

Mrs. Lygregh dawdled down the path carrying the bags full of food. As the manor came into view from behind the trees, she could see her daughter by an upstairs window, watching her every move.

The door opened, and her mother walked in. She saw her sitting on the stairs, her hands behind her back.
“Victoria, the house looks the same as it did when I left, what have you been doing all day?”
“Why, I was waiting for you to come home, mother.” She stood.
“You never wait for me, why is today any different?”
“I just thought after all these years of putting up with my condition, you deserved a little present.”
Tori ran a finger down the back of the knife.