How much have you lost? People ask. Not much, I tell them. Just everything. My family, my house, my pets, the money. The money was the most important. The money was everything. Food, clothes, shoes. Everything. The city was is shambles. People homeless. Stray pets. All of it because of the mirror people. We call them reflectionists. Of course there are those who cal it the zombie apocalypse. I call it family killer. First my dad, then my older brother, then my little sister, then finally my mom. It seemed to take the men and boys first, then the mothers and children. They only get you if you look in a reflection. They're coming for me. I can feel it.
Walking outside takes courage. But that's when they get you. I live in an abandoned warehouse with nothing but the few clothes and little money that I have. My friend- the only one who's survived- the only one who understands what I go through. Peter lost his family the same time I did. The same accident. The same pattern. His dad, then his mom. He was an only child. There are rescue centers, and hospitals that let in the homeless. But the worst are the orphanages and the foster cares. We stay far away from them, Peter and I. They are terrible places.
