The Girl in the Mirror

Everything around me has donned a winter coat. Snow gathers in the crevices of tree branches, and I watch as a singular brown, withered leaf drifts slowly to the ground, where I know it will soon be buried. The extreme whiteness of my surroundings seems surreal, and I feel almost as though this is a parallel life, one in which the snowflakes aren’t snow at all—it’s actually ash, the remnants of a world once on fire.

The surface of the lake is smooth like glass, still and frosted over with a thin layer of ice. Underneath seems to be a pool of black emptiness, a bottomless pit deep in the ground that could swallow me whole.

Perfect.

My dress is the color of crisp paper swans, but it looks aged and yellow compared to the fresh blanket of white that covers the earth. It’s long on me and tattered, with sleeves that flare out at the elbows and lace trimming every inch of the fabric.

Grandma loved to dress up, always searching for any excuse to put on heels or makeup or to put her long red hair in curlers. She got married in this dress, the one I’m wearing right now. She sewed it herself, spending several months and devoting every spare second of her time to making it absolutely perfect. When she died, this is the dress she wanted to be buried in.

It should’ve scared me to break into the mausoleum. But the girl in the mirror was propelling me forward, her will dictating my movements. I felt strong as I lifted the lid to her casket. I felt brave as I stared into the decaying face of my best friend. And for a moment, I could see everything her way—she wasn’t finished yet. She had to come back and live the life that had been taken away from her. She needed another chance. I could help her, just as she has helped me. Together, we could be even stronger. Even braver.

Unstoppable.

I extend my foot over the surface of the lake, watching my reflection take form in the ice. The girl replaces me, an eager grin lighting up her entire face. I tap the surface lightly with the toe of one of my Mary Janes, watching as cracks form and spread outwards, rupturing the quiet stillness of the woods with a subtle splintering sound. It’s mesmerizing to watch it break, and I let a satisfied smile pass my lips as I take in the sight.

“Don’t fall in,” Tabitha says warily from her perch nearly ten feet away.

“I’m not gonna fall,” I tell her, turning away from the water. Her cheeks are a bright shade of pink, standing out against her pale skin and white-blonde hair. She nearly blends in with the snow-laden woods surrounding us. “That’s not what she wanted.”

I’d told my sister most of what I was planning to do, knowing she would keep any secret I told her locked behind metal bars, never to be let out into the open. She’s always been a quiet girl, storing secrets and confessions in a little box at the back of her mind, never sharing them with anyone else. Her mind is a steel trap, capturing every detail of every moment of every scene that passes before her eyes, significant and meaningless alike. She remembers everything, but she isn’t a storyteller. That’s why I trust her.

Tabitha retrieves from her bag the wooden jewelry box that belonged to our grandmother. I open it up and let my fingers hover over the different pieces, waiting until I find one that feels right. The diamond set still has a stubborn hold on me, but I reach for a string of rubies and a matching pair of earrings instead. The girl in the mirror has a strong liking for red, and I want this to be exactly what she wanted. It’s the least I can do.

“We couldn’t have waited for the snow to melt?”

I smile at my sister as I fasten the rubies onto my earlobes. “The cold is a small price to pay,” I tell her. “Besides, that’s not what she wanted.”

Tabitha snaps the box shut, her teeth chattering together as she looks out at the lake. “You could get frostbite. Lose all your limbs.”

“It will be worth it.”

“Or you could drown.”

“I can swim, Tabitha.”

“Famous last words,” she grumbles.

She’ll listen, but she won’t understand. That’s why she chose me. I understand.

I begin to unstrap my shoes, leaving them in the snow beside us. They look like shiny black beetles on top of a pristine white tablecloth. “I appreciate your faith in me.”

“Happy to oblige. But seriously, Lillian. I don’t know the way back. If you die, I’m gonna be stuck in the woods forever.”

“Quiet, Tabitha. Don’t make me regret bringing you along.”

“Sorry.”

My first few steps towards the lake are slow but certain, the soles of my feet having a strange sort of delayed reaction to my sudden plunge into the snow. I don’t look back at Tabitha, knowing she’s caught on to the fact that I’ve already come to terms with the possibility of disaster.

I continue moving forward, gradually increasing my pace until I’m standing at the edge of the water. The trees bend together to form a canopy over my head, but snow trickles down between the overlapping branches, flakes of white landing in my hair and on my skin.

I get down on my knees and press my hands against the surface of the lake until it starts to crack, the thin layer of ice breaking apart and slipping through my fingers. I reach down into the water and let the feeling fade as numbness spreads up my arm.

I haven’t truly let myself worry about the idea that this is dangerous. The girl in the mirror promised it would be worth it. And in the end, the thought of our connection being severed scared me more than spending a few minutes under water.

I stand once again, letting my numb right arm fall against my side. Then I take a step further, deeper into the water. It’s shallow around the edges of the lake, so I keep going. Seconds later, I stand waist-deep in freezing blackness. The ends of the tattered white dress brush against my legs. I can feel Tabitha’s eyes on me as she watches, fearful of what’s to come.

I’ll be okay, I want to tell her. In fact, I’ll be better than okay. In just a manner of minutes, I’ll have brought our grandmother back.

It was simple, the way she explained it to me. For her to live again, I’d have to take her place. Wear her clothes, her shoes, her jewelry. Find the place she loved the most.

And drown.

I didn’t fight her on it. She deserves this, after all. Life is nothing without her in it. She’s the reason to live. She’s the reason to come back to life. And in my case, she’s also the reason I should be willing to die.

I conveniently left that part out for Tabitha. I couldn’t risk her panicking and trying to stop me. She wouldn’t understand. She never understands.

Of course, I won’t actually be gone. The girl in the mirror promised we would finally be the same. I think back to the conversation we had a couple days ago.

You want to be the same, don’t you? she’d asked.

“More than anything.”

Then you have to be willing to sacrifice.

“I am,” I told her. “I’m willing. I’ll do anything.”

Whatever it takes?

I’d let out a hollow breath as a smile crept across my lips. “Whatever it takes.”

It’s simple, really. I die for her, and we come back as one person. My life will be hers. Her life will be mine. We’ll belong to each other. One and the same. Bound by an unbreakable promise. Forever.

“I’m coming,” I whisper, grinning as I wade further into the water. It reaches up to my collarbone now, and I wonder if it’s enough to freeze my heart. Apparently not, because I can still feel its quiet thumping in the back of my throat. Just a little bit further, and I won’t be able to feel the ground anymore. The thrill has me more excited than I ever thought I could be.

“Lillian,” I hear my sister call out, “wait. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Maybe it was a mistake to tell her. “I trusted you, Tabitha,” I holler back. I say it like a warning, like she still has a chance to fix things.

“Trust me again. Please.”

I’m treading water now, but my legs feel as though they’re about to give out.

It’s time.

“I’ll be back,” I tell her. Then I let myself sink.

I can feel the heat rush out of my body, my scalp prickling at the sudden plunge. It’s cold. It’s very cold. But after a moment, it doesn’t seem quite so bad. I open my eyes and watch as the water swirls around me, my body moving in slow motion.

It’s silent. Kind of strange. Almost transcendental. It feels like I could stay this way forever, trapped in the reassurance of the quiet and the cold. It makes me think that dying isn’t as painful as it should be.

I let out the air I’ve been holding, feeling water rush up through my nose as I instinctively grope for another breath. It stings, lighting up the back of my throat as if I’m choking on fire, and that’s when the reality of my situation finally starts to set in.

I’m going to die.

I feel heavy, like I’m being held down. I’m being pushed farther and farther away from the surface, and I can’t fight it. I search the darkness for any sign of the girl in the mirror. She promised she wouldn’t leave me. She said she’d be here.

You said you’d be here.

I can’t escape the grasp that the depths of the lake have on me. My heart feels as though it will burst. I can feel myself start to disappear, but it’s far from a gradual process. It hurts so much more than I thought it would.

I’m frozen. I cannot move. Even my eyes are beginning to give up on me. I’m fading out of reality and existence. And there’s nothing I can do.

Why would you leave me?

I imagine Tabitha looking down at me, watching with horror as I slip further and further away, knowing there’s nothing more that she can do. I imagine Adam searching for me in class tomorrow, growing worried when I don’t respond to his calls or his text messages.

I imagine the girl in the mirror, frowning in what almost looks like disappointment, as if I’ve done something wrong. Then she looks bored, simply unenthused at the sight of me drowning. But I can feel my heart slowing, slowing, slowing down until the beat is almost undetectable, and eventually, I think I feel it stop.

Then she smiles.

We are the same, she says.

My eyes open, and a newfound strength propels me up again. I’m swimming faster now, no longer being pulled towards the bottom, racing an unseen opponent to the surface of the lake. My head breaks through the water, and my first instinct is to call out for Tabitha. It’s not even a conscious decision, just an automatic reaction.

She’s watching me, kneeling in the snow only feet away. “Lillian!” She helps pull me out of the water and begins fussing over how I’m going to get home without freezing first.

I feel outside of myself. I can’t even tell if I’m relieved to have survived. Of course I am. It actually worked. Right?

“You really scared me,” she says. “I can’t believe I let you do that.”

I can’t feel my pulse, but I can’t tell if that’s just because I’m shocked at being exposed to the air again, and my brain is still struggling to catch up. I take in my surroundings. Tabitha. The trees. The snow. The lake. It must be freezing out here.

I watch my right hand reach out and grab a fistful of snow. My hands are still numb. Now that I think about it, I don’t feel the heavy, wet dress clinging to me either. I don’t feel the wind or the cold air. My throat, my lungs, my entire body should burn after the threat of drowning, but I feel nothing. I must still be recovering.

“Lillian. Lillian, are you okay?”

“Never better,” I hear myself saying. Every part of me feels like it’s on autopilot, even my mouth as I say those words. I reach for my Mary Janes and strap them back onto my feet. I feel foreign. I thought I would recognize the girl after I’d brought her back, but something feels off.

She holds out her hand, and I reach up to take it. I somehow pull myself to standing and turn to face my sister. Her voice grows quiet as she looks at me some more. “Did it—did it work?”

“Of course it did.” The confidence in my voice shocks me, and maybe even Tabitha too. Of course it did, I said. As if not a single doubt ever crossed my mind as I was sinking to the bottom of the lake. As if I had no choice but to trust her.

She reaches out and takes a strand of my hair in between her fingers. As she does so, I notice that it’s no longer black—it’s a deep shade of brownish-red that I recognize as belonging to my grandmother.

“You’re taller too,” she says.

Come to think of it, my perspective has changed too, although maybe not just due to my height. I recognize Tabitha, but at the same time, she seems like a foreigner. Someone I know only from pictures. Someone I’ve only ever heard things about. Not the girl who used to crawl into my bed during late night thunderstorms. Not the girl who cried when I left her to go to school every morning. Not the girl I confided in when I started crushing on the cashier at Dollar General. Not the girl who listened to me rant after Rachel and I tried out for the same part for the school play and she was one who got it.

I don’t even know her.

It worked.

I was excited to help her. I was excited to bring her back. I thought she deserved it. But now I’m terrified, because I have no idea what she’s going to do.

The girl in the mirror has taken over, and all I can do is watch.