The Past, The Present and The Future?

Isn’t it scary how often we always look to the past and the future, but never the present? How lonely the present must feel, how forgotten it becomes. I stand here, bare except for a thin piece of material loosely covering my body, gazing at the reflection in front of me. Reflections surround me. Impressions of myself lay in the glass, though each one is different. The one in my face right now is the one that’s the exact copy of me at this moment. My present self, or so I presume.

I don’t know how I got here. The last thing I remember was struggling to fall asleep in the ‘bed’ they gave me when I arrived at this foreign place.

Mist covers the ground, making it difficult for me to see where I’m going. There’s nothing much to see in this darkened room except for the mirrors.

They surround me.

Encircle me, making me feel trapped inside my subconscious.

Maybe that’s where I am. I suppose this could be something trying to send me a message.

As that thought runs through my mind, the image smiles. Is this thing reading my mind? I guess it is me, anyway.

Brushing off the chills that course through my senseless body, I stalk around the circle of mirrors. I’m still trying to figure out where I am, but my curious nature leads me to inspect them further.

I stop at the first two. Each one has a different version of me when I was younger. I turn to the first of the pair and stare into memories of a happier life. This was me from before my parents died. We were happy, I guess, or what a little girl knew of happiness. As I think about those times, I’m transported back through the memories. My older brother appears in a few. We were close, though he always picked on me. A sombre smile lights up my face when one memory, in particular, stands out. My mom and dad were comforting me after another episode of my brother being mean. I remember the crying on my mother’s shoulder and my father stroking my back in comfort. Although I was crying, they had smiles on their faces. I never understood why until this moment. They were reassuring me that my brother did those things because he loved me and that’s what brothers do. He came into the room not long after that and apologized. He said everything that mom and dad had. We ended up in a big family hug that resulted in me being squished until I couldn’t breathe.

Moving on from the wistfulness, I turn into the vision from after the accident. Pain rips through me, the scenes rushing over me, and I nearly want to cripple over from the grief. I look worn down and haggard. So unbelievably tired. I look like something no 10-year-old girl should ever look like. The accident remains in the forefront of my mind as though it was yesterday, relieving it basically every night in my dreams. I was in the car with them on that fateful day. The accident happened so quickly; I didn’t even know what was going on until I saw the firefighters. The truck came out of nowhere and hit us. The firefighters worked endlessly to save all of our lives that day. I’ll never forget that. The echoes of my father’s pleas to please save me and my mom ring through my head like a church bell. My mother begs for my rescue first. The “I love you’s” fly through the tainted air as I’m pulled from the car and the flames engulf everything. My father gave up his life for us and my mother gave up hers for mine. I jump to the memories of my brother from after the accident, so dead and so cold in a living being. I see the picture of us being dragged apart by the foster care system. The last time I saw my older brother was the day of my 11th birthday, the day they split us up forever. The emotions cause turmoil within my being, so I turn to the next mirror.

I jolt when the image makes an appearance and I don’t recognise the person I’m staring at. This person looks ten, maybe fifteen, years older than me. Considering I’m sixteen now, that would put this woman in her twenties. Curiosity bites at me as I take a step closer to the alluring fragment. She seems thrilled, full of joy that I haven’t felt in the longest time. It radiates from her like the rays of the sun shining down upon us. It’s captivating. She pulls me in until I’m basically nose to nose with her. It’s only upon this closer inspection that I notice the familiar features. Those eyes are the same moss green as mine. Her nose sits in the exact position above her full mouth as they do on my face. Finally, it clicks that this woman is the future version of me. With that revelation consuming me, I exam the woman that is my future self further. She looks healthy at least. I look down at my present body, dirty and a tad bit too skinny for normal. A smart business suit adorns her body, sending out the idea of a good career path. It’s relieving to acknowledge this information, as my primary concern is reaching the age of eighteen. Then I’m free from the foster care system and I’m able to live my life according to my own rules. What comes after that, I could not answer. Having a future is reassuring, even if it might be a figment of my imagination, but the implication is still there. The only question left now is, how the hell do I get to that point?

I ponder the question as a cool breeze drifts through this baron place. Shivers run up my arms and I curl into myself, searching for some source of warmth. My bare feet tremble as I move from my position. The ground is rough; I don’t think I noticed that before. Why I think of it now when my head fills with too much of everything is beyond my comprehension at this point. This entire experience is out of my spectrum. I move along the encroaching circle towards the last two sets of mirrors.

I stop my tracks when I face the first one again. There’s nothing new to this form of me. Everything looks exactly the same. Though now I take full stock of the effects the past few years have had on me. My once golden blonde hair looks nearly dirty blonde with all the grease and grime covering the strands. It’s in desperate need of a cut. I often wonder if I should just chop it all off, but then I remember my mom and how she loved we had the same hair. I guess I just don’t have the courage to rid myself of that precious memento too. There’s a shell of a boney structure with my eyes hiding the monsters I’ve come to know. It’s baffling to witness this presence with the sign of the future just a step away, just out of my reach. I don’t know how to connect the two.

I angle towards the last mirror and wonder what that could entail. I’ve already seen two versions of my past, so I don’t think it’s that. There is no other version of my present self than the one right in front of me. Maybe it’s another version of my future? Dread fills my empty stomach. Hey, at least it’s filled with something for a change. I hope this isn’t something horrible regarding my future. I don’t think I can take any more heartaches in this lifetime. 

I cautiously stride towards the unknown, that dread still settling in my bowels. My slowly exaggerated pace still leads me to the final mirror in the blink of an eye. I take a deep breath and prepare to witness what might be my downfall after all. In a haste, I confront the piece of glass and wood. I’ve got to face my demons eventually, right? 

I’m stopped short when my vision finally clears. Honestly, I was expecting to see something bad, but what I actually see confuses my befuddled brain even more. I see myself, the replica of me, like the one in the other mirror. Looking between the two, my tired mind is trying to work out what this means. A million things come rushing in and leave just as quickly.

Suddenly, a movement catches my eye. I settle my gaze on the final reflection as another person appears in the picture. I’m holding hands with this man. He can’t be much older than me. We have smiles on our faces, and my appearance changes. Gone is the shell of a lifeless girl, and in its place is a manifestation of a beautiful woman. Something about this man seems familiar to me. I just can’t put my finger on it. Eventually, the penny drops as I focus on the birthmark situated faintly above his right eyebrow. The twin of the birthmark that’s on my face. Quickly doing the math in my head and thinking back to the month it is, everything makes sense. He would’ve turned eighteen a few days ago. He was only older than me by two years. Does this mean…? The thought of what this could mean brings forth excitement. Is it really true? Will my brother really come for me?