That One Time I Died

The girl in the mirror

Our dinner was silent. The occasional flickering of the lights was by far the least monotonous part of our meal. My dad did not look up from his plate, his once black, now grayish hair spiking in every direction. Despite the depressing atmosphere, he didn't mope around his meal. I couldn't really blame him - although my efforts to eat the entire steak were not as successful, I still greatly enjoyed the half of it that I did manage to dispose of.  

The sun had completely gone down when we both left the table. We hadn't even attempted to look at each other, but I could feel his stone-cold resolve as much as he could feel my silent resentment. The cold wind blew into the room, causing both of us to slightly tremble, yet I didn't care to close the window and neither did my father. Since I had still left a lot of food on my plate, I didn't bother to put it on the counter when I finally got the energy to leave. 

I slowly walked out, the dullness of my dragging feet being the only sound echoing through the dim corridor. Even the pair of boots I accidentally knocked over seemed to reverently avoid thumping to the ground. 

I stared down at my hands, absentmindedly observing their movement as my feet continued to drag towards the direction of my room. As I approached the door, I gradually became aware of an odd noise coming from the other side. It almost sounded like another person talking. 

I gently opened the door, wondering if I wasn't somehow hallucinating that strange babble, just like my dad had talked about. I looked around my messy surroundings, and sure enough, I was alone. Until...

"Hey? Hey! Please tell me you can hear me!" 

Terrified, I sharply whirled around to investigate where the voice was coming from. It sounded like a girl, a teenage girl, the idea of which filled me with an odd type of anxiety, almost worse than hearing a baby laugh at this hour. My eyes darted around the room, desperately trying to locate whoever was trying to talk to me. Finally, I lifted my eyes up to the mirror which hung above my desk. 

I stared at it, petrified, questioning my sanity. Looking down from it, peaking back at me was a person. And that person was not me. She noticed me look up and her brown eyes lit up, relief washing over her face. 

"Oh, phew, I thought we had a bad connection!" 

Still rendered unable to speak, I simply looked back up at her. Her long hair, which seemed dark in the shadows, fell down in beautiful, long blonde curls in the dim light. A long, white ribbon clipped at the back of her head fell down to her neck, gracefully swayed as she moved about. She wore a cutesy pink sweater with little white hearts sprinkled all over it. I could see what looked to be her nails, painted in a memorable hot pink. 

"Hey! Are you alright? I didn't scare you did I?" 

Her question finally shook me out of my paralyzed state. 

"No... you, you didn't scare me." I meekly lied. 

"Okay good, good! Oh, yes, right, you're Rosalie Silvavova, right? Please tell me I got the right place!"

"Yes... Yes, I am," I replied. After a few loudly silent seconds, I blurted out, "Are you a god?" 

The girl in the mirror's face contorted as if trying to hold in a laugh, and finally succumbing to the urge, she let out a

"PFFFFFT....pffff-HAHAHAHA, oh, I wish." 

"Then who are you? How do you know my name and what are you doing in my mirror?" 

"I'm Layla - I'm the daughter of your father's friend Sergei from back at the lab. His best bud from before- well, before The Accident, remember?" 

"The what?" I asked.