The Mirror Realm

09.

  "I called the Dixon's and asked if Oliver could come and hang out with you and your brother for the night when we're away until we get back. After what I heard last night, I want someone who is more...one might say, stable minded, taking care of your little brother," Mrs. Hayes hisses, white acrylic dishes in both hands as she opens a brown polished cabinet, putting both in their rightful places softly.

  Amy's mind can't help but avert away from the present and fall back to the past. The past that was only a few hours ago. The mysterious figure that continually shows up, the illusions and hallucinations of her body changing in the same mirror that Oliver peered into. And the two fingers.  It was three, but now two...and it's only a matter of hours before it's one. Am I going insane? She wonders.

  The sound of a fist crashing down on the wood table is enough to jar Amy from her thoughts.

  "Did you hear what I said!?" Her mother shouts angrily, staring down at her daughter who is sitting silently in a black chair, pulled away from the kitchen table.

  Amy hesitantly shakes her head no, craning her neck left and right slowly. Her eyes fill with fear, fear that is indescribable by words.

  "Stupid girl," Mrs. Hayes claims, "I said, no taunting your bother, no TV, and defiantly no horseplay. I trust you enough to make dinner for him, I set out the ingredients needed to make his favorite meal of Mac-&-Cheese. And I expect him and you," she hastily points a finger at Amy, "To be in bed at a certain time!"

  "W-what time will you be back?" Amy reluctantly inquires.

  "Around twelve or one in the morning," she answers, turning her back to focus on the dishes.

  Amy so desperately wants to ask another question, but she knows all too well that asking more than a few questions can get her into deep trouble. Her parents have always been so strict about things such as this, ever since Levi was born and Amy was no longer the family's priority.

  Without another word, Mrs. Hayes leaves from out of the kitchen.

  "I love you too," she softly mutters from underneath her breath, her voice damaged from the intensity of last night.

  I want things to be better, I want everything to be reversed, I want everything to change.

***

  The doorbell rings throughout the walls of the old and settling house. Shortly after, the annoying voice of her father echoes through the empty corridors.

  "Amy! Answer the door!" He hastily states, Amy forthwith doing what she was told to do moments before.

She reaches her hand out, turning the knob involuntarily, revealing Oliver. His hands stuck deep in his pockets and his dirty blonde locks swept up with hair gel. Amy's insides immediately overflow with relief, just seeing his face makes her feel safe. Safe from whatever is going on with her. Safe from what her mind is doing to her.

Amy opens her arms, taking him into a tight embrace. She inhales the light aroma of his scented clothes, smelling of mint and evergreen trees. Oliver is taken back from her sudden action...she hasn't done something like this in a long time, a really long time.

"Are you alright?" He whispers into Amy's ear delicately, wrapping his arms around her small body.

She shakes her head, nudging her face deeper into the side of his neck.

"I don't know what's happening to me, Oliver...I think I-I'm going insane," she stutters, holding back the tears she's been keeping in since last Saturday in the diner.

Oliver pulls away slowly and reassuringly places the palm of his hand upon her soft cheek, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb.

"You're not going insane, Amy, there's just...something wrong, maybe you're stressed...or tired," he rattles off reasons for her sudden outbreaks, but none satisfy her wonderings as to why this is happening to her, and why it's happening now.

  The fact that she can't tell anyone about what she's seeing - besides Oliver - is driving her crazy. She can't tell her parents simply because they wouldn't care, and she can't tell any doctors because they'd diagnose her with a mental disability and most likely house her in an insane asylum.

She thinks about it constantly, the sinister creature lurking in the shadows, the creature with no face, draped in black. The repeating numbers, a new one each day. Tearing herself away from her abysmal thoughts, she lifts her hanging head to gaze up at him.

"I don't know what it means, the numbers, the man with no face, I-I just don't know," a single, pained tear drops from her tear duct, strolling down her cheek casually.

Oliver immediately wipes it away with the pad of his thumb, taking her back in for another tight embrace. He gently smooths down her hair, stroking it over and over again. Everything is instantly interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

Both instantly pull away from each other, the once felt warmth between their bodies now gone, evaporating into the tense air.

"There will be no teenage funny business while we're away, and I'm going to assume that you know what I mean by this," Mrs. Hayes' eyes flicker between Amy and Oliver, her eyes halt on his figure though.

"And I'm talking to you too, Mr. Dixon," she cracks a smile, one that sends chills running up Oliver's neck, not chills caused by fear, but rather an anger. Strong rage, choler, animosity. A hatred brewed so profoundly towards Aria, Dan, and Levi Hayes.

For three years, ever since Oliver came into Amy's life, her family has treated him better, with more respect than their own daughter; and they treat her in ways so cruel, right in front of his own eyes!

The filthy smile is cleanly wiped off Mrs. Hayes' lips when her eyes directly settle on a trembling Amy.

"Remember what I told you about properly welcoming our guests, Amy?!" She semi-shouts, boiling steam escaping her ears as she stares at her daughter.

This remark directed toward his girlfriend is enough for some steam to rise up in his own body. Oliver stares daggers at the woman's face but makes it less obvious.

Her mother's words ringing in her eardrum, Amy is quick to help Oliver take his coat off, the sleeves sliding off to reveal toned, muscular arms. She takes his coat, neatly hanging it on a hanger in the coat closet standing to the right of the front door.

"I'll take your shoes," Amy says, her tone strained and stripped, trying to sound as amicable as she can in front of the devilish woman she calls her mother.

Oliver slips off his shoes with the heels of his feet, not lifting his fiery gaze from Aria.

"Alright," she opens her strawberry colored lips to speak, "We must be off, have a fun time," and with her fake words looming in the room, she leaves out the garage door, Mr. Hayes already in the car, reading something on his cellphone.

Another tear leaves Amy's eye, rolling down her cheek like a stone off a cliff.

I want her to change. I want her to be different. I want her to be gone...I want her gone.