Reflection

Another wave of nausea hit Camilla as she wandered the school halls, head down and eyes glued to her phone. Her fingers danced across the screen as she typed out a message: hey liv we’re gonna have to push back the sleepover. i’m sick and don’t want to get u sick by being at your house for a week. She pressed send moments before her phone froze and went dark. A frown crossed the girl’s face at the sight of the black screen. She tapped the screen a few times, checking to see if it was really dead. She hadn’t noticed the battery was so low. 

Camilla inhaled sharply as a stab of pain hit her midsection. Blinking a few times and doing her best to focus on something else, she slipped her phone into the pocket of her jean shorts. As she looked up, Camilla realized she was in the wrong hallway. She had meant to go to the office, to call and ask her dad to come get her. Wherever she had ended up was not the office. She glanced around, confused, at the unfamiliar and strangely dark hallway. All but one light was off. A small, moving creature caught her attention–a cockroach. Ew, she thought, wrinkling her nose in disgust and following it with her eyes as it scuttled across the floor and under a closed door. 

A muffled sound made Camilla’s head shoot up, the bug forgotten. Her legs moved her forwards, towards a door at the far end of the rather unusual hallway. The faint sound repeated again- a knock, maybe? Slightly concerned, she slowly approached the door. The noises, whatever they had been, stopped as she peered through the glass panel. She could see nothing but an endless abyss of black. Curiosity got the best of her and she pushed down on the metal panel that allowed the door to open. It swung open somewhat easily, making a noise not unlike a dying animal.

Still, it was dark. The whole space was bathed in an impenetrable shadow, so dark she couldn’t see more than a few feet of the beat-up wooden flooring in front of her. It was out of place compared to the polished linoleum floor that could be found in the rest of the school. The sound repeated again, more clear this time. A voice? Who is that? Camilla wondered, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to make out a figure in the blackness. “Hello?” she called out in a hushed voice. Silence came as a reply. 

Hesitantly, she took a few steps forward. Her shoe landed in an unknown, sticky liquid, causing her to wobble. Her hand reached out to catch something, but it passed through empty air. She fell forward into the pitch black that seemed as if it was going to swallow her up; down a staircase she hadn’t been aware of before. She plummeted down, the sickening crunch of bone echoing through the stale, empty air. 

...

Camilla’s eyes snapped open, and she was hit with a surge of pain and nausea. A rancid, rotting scent crept into her nostrils, making her gag. She coughed, her chest spasming. Slowly, she brought a hand up to her forehead to wipe the liquid that had begun to drip down to her eyes. Still surrounded by darkness, she couldn’t tell if it was sweat or blood. After a few moments of regaining consciousness, she became more aware of what she was seeing–and feeling. She was propped up against a cold stone wall, a chill seeping through her T-shirt and into her skin. The bite of cold was nothing compared to the throbbing pain that coursed through her leg and head. 

Trying to focus her vision, Camila gripped the wall behind her as best she could and dragged herself upright. Despite the pain, she was able to stand. “Okay, good,” she breathed. “Nothing’s broken. Hopefully.” The nausea from before had vanished, replaced by a pounding headache that felt like nails were being hammered into her skull. On unsteady legs, she stumbled forward to, hopefully, the stairs that brought her down here. She only made it a few steps before tripping over something, causing her to topple over. Camilla let out a cry as she hit the ground yet again, the harsh contact sending another wave of pain through her legs. Her hand landed in something mushy and wet. She shrieked and pulled her hand away, rolling over onto her back and frantically wiping her now sticky hand on her shirt. She choked on the stench, and scrambled to her feet despite the agony. 

Not wanting to think of what that was, she stuck her hands out in front of her to avoid running into anything as she stumbled in the direction from which she fell. Finally finding the staircase, she crawled up, bursts of pain shooting through her leg as she ascended. Reaching the creaky doors, Camilla’s hands fumbled in the dark until they met with the cold metal handles. She thrusted them open and stepped out into the unlit hallway. 

She stepped out, wincing as a cramp seized her leg for a moment. Camilla slowly made her way down the hall, limping and breathing heavily. Her head continued to pound and her vision was clouded. She reached up to rub her eyes, only for her hands to come away wet. Am I crying? I didn’t even notice. 

She came to the end of the hall, only to be met by a dim hall. All of the lights had been shut off, except for one. Her brows furrowed and she glanced around. “How long was I out for?” she whispered to herself. As her eyes scanned the empty halls, they caught on a sign, barely visible in the darkness, stapled to the wall. 

Have a great winter break! 

School will resume on: January 2nd.

As she read, her face fell. The girl’s mouth went dry as she came to the realization: she was trapped, and alone. “No,” Camilla muttered, and a laugh escaped her throat. “This isn’t real. No way.” She shook her head, which she immediately regretted as another bolt of pain shot through her skull. Her breathing sped up and tears pricked at her eyes. Blinking quickly and wiping her eyes again, she took a few deep breaths to get control of herself. 

“I can get out of here,” she told herself. “Just need to find a door. I can break it.” Determined and desperate, she started down a hall. Everything was so dark that the halls that were once so familiar now seemed warped, like she was somewhere else entirely. Her shoe screeched against the floor as she faltered yet again, but she stayed upright. The hall came to an end, forcing her to take a left turn. Another hall, a replica of the one she had just been walking down, greeted her. Groaning at the thought of more walking, she took a pause before continuing. She was trying to ignore the prickles of pain that forced her to stop to catch her breath every few moments. 

She took a step to the side to avoid stepping on a piece of gum as she continued, praying to find an exit. Hall after hall, it seemed as if there was no escape. Her vision grew fuzzy and her muscles were stiff. What is happening to me? She took a moment to lean against the wall, the sudden connection with the locker making a metal clang sound. Her limbs felt heavy, as though they were bloated. It weighed her down, making movement unusually exhausting. After a few seconds, she straightened back up and continued walking. 

A cough racked through her chest, a sign of her growing dehydration. But she kept walking, in a zombie-like manner. Her steps were heavy and unstable, each foot dragging against the polished floor. Every time her foot connected with the floor, a spike of pain shot up her leg and to her head, making her vision spin. Camilla grimaced as her shoe landed in a sticky pink blob, a piece of gum that a student must have spat onto the floor. 

“Gross,” she mumbled, but didn’t have the energy to attempt to remove it from her sneaker’s sole. As she looked back up from the ground, her eyes snagged on a figure. At the end of the hall, the silhouette of a person was just barely visible. The girl’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Voice cracking, she called out in a scratchy voice, “Hello? Is someone there?” She limped forwards as fast as she was able, towards the shadow that had yet to move. “I need help! Please, please, pl-”

It was gone. Vanished into the air in front of her eyes. She stopped in her tracks, panting, and her brows furrowed in frantic confusion. “Hello?” she whispered into the empty hall, her voice echoing back louder than it should have. A cold breeze pushed the trembling girl over, sending her to her knees. 

Unlike the last time, she received a response. “Hello,” the air murmured. The word repeated, coming from different places and ringing in Camilla’s ears. Her head shot up, her eyes raking across the hall to find who had answered her. The corridor remained vacant and dark, furthering her dazed state. The voice came again: “You need to leave.”

“Leave?” Camilla’s voice was hoarse. “I’m trying to.” 

“You are trying to stay. Do not lie.”

The girl’s tongue passed over her cracked lips, wetting them. Am I going insane? I’m talking to air right now. “What?” Her eyes narrowed, trying to make out the invisible speaker.

The air in front of her flickered. “You need to leave,” it repeated, the voice now an angry hiss. A chorus of the last word rang through the hall, as though a crowd were agreeing. 

Camilla groaned and clutched her head in agony as a burning sensation blossomed inside of her skull. “Shut up,” she muttered, her eyes squeezed shut. “Shut up. If you want me to leave so badly, then help me find a way out.”

A mixture of giggles, mocking snickers, and cruel laughter reverberated through the hall. The voice with no face came again, in a scornful tone. “Out? There is no way out of where you are going, child.”

“I’m going home,” Camilla snapped, opening her eyes again as the pain dulled. “Once I find a door.”

The air cackled at her. “Yes, yes. You are going home, if that’s what you would like to call it.”

“Leave me alone,” the girl demanded as she dragged herself back to her feet. I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?

“As you wish,” the voice replied, barely a murmur. “We were only trying to help, child. To spare you the pain.” 

Camilla shook her head to get rid of the assumed hallucinations. Breathing out heavily, she began making her way down the hallway. 

The air now had a putrid stench, similar to what she had smelled in the bottom of the staircase. She coughed, the phlegm in her throat making a gross noise. The odor seemed to follow her and fill the dark halls. The air seemed thick and humid, like it was trying to choke her. As she staggered down hall upon hall, her exhaustion grew. 

“Please, just give me a door,” she mumbled, not sure who she was really asking. As if she had summoned it, she rounded a corner and was met with a glass-paneled door. Though not much could be seen in the darkness, she knew the difference between the school doors that led outside versus inside. Camilla froze, hope sparking in her eyes. She lengthened her stride and quickened her pace, desperate for fresh air and freedom. Her hands hit the metal bar and pushed with quivering arms. 

The door swung open, revealing neither freedom nor fresh air. She was met with darkness once again, as though someone had stolen the moon from the sky. Camilla stepped out, her feet landing on an unfamiliar texture. Her eyes scanned up and down and left and right, seeking something. Anything but the grim blackness she had become acquainted with. 

The only thing she could see was a dark figure. Darker than the darkness itself, which had seemed impossible before. “I-is someone there?” Camilla reached out for a third time, her words faltering and the despair audible in her tone. She took a few steps forward, hesitant. She suddenly fell to the ground as her pain tripled in mere seconds. A half cry, half scream left her mouth as she crumpled to the floor.

As the shadowed figure approached, Camilla’s agony worsened. She lay in the fetal position, her hands pressed to her head and tears streaking down her face. High-pitched whimpers left her throat, the only sound she had the strength to make. The apparition now stood next to her body, looming over the girl. A low, rough sound that somewhat resembled laughter came from the shadow. 

“You should have taken the help,” it murmured, and the words surrounded her, taunting and teasing.

Camilla tried to respond, but the reply got caught in her throat. A choking noise was all that came out.

It bent down, crouching in front of the frame of the girl. “Did you really think you could pull this off? You cannot escape death.”

Something cold and sharp pressed against her forehead, sending an icy feeling through her body. The pain went away, but was replaced with something more unsettling. Although her chest was still heaving, she was able to look up as the apparition retracted its bony finger from her forehead.

“I’m not dead,” Camilla whispered, but her voice was uncertain. 

A scoff came from next to her. “Look in the mirror. You are past dead, little girl.” A bony hand wrapped itself around the girl’s shoulder and roughly pulled her into a sitting position.

She found herself staring at someone unfamiliar. A girl with matted, bloody hair that failed to cover her caved-in skull. A girl with pale, greenish skin caked in dried blood and a face covered in bleeding tears. A leg was bent at the wrong place. 

“That’s not me,” Camilla whimpered in a cracked voice. 

“Admit it,” the shadow breathed from next to her ear on one side of the reflection. “You’re rotted.”

“No,” she denied weakly. 

“I’ve been kind,” it muttered, “because this has been amusing to watch. But I think it’s time for this to end, hm?”

Camilla hung her head in defeat. “I don’t want to die.”

“Too late, child.” A hand made of bone wrapped around one made of glass stained white, and pulled it up. 

The girl cast a final glance at the corpse that was no longer her, then entered the shadows she had been running from.