I had no clue what to with myself. If I would have been thinking I would have bought myself a book to read or even grabbed a sketch pad. I had turned the tv on but the feeling that I wasn't alone hung thick in the air.
Walking back to my bedroom I once again sat in front of my mirror starring at it. It wasn't the most beautiful mirror, in fact, everyone else seemed to think it was hideous. Its black wooden frame was carved in a gothic fashion and there was a face on the top and the bottom of it. I suppose it was supposed to be a cherub face but it looked so sinister against the dark black of the wood.
Before my mother left she would take us antique shopping every other weekend. We would have so much fun trying to find new, unique, and interesting finds. I was fifteen when I first laid eyes on that mirror and I knew I had to have it.
Mom had tried to talk me out of it. She had told me how hideous and out of character it was but the mirror had called to me. I had been obsessed with all things dark and mysterious and that mirror, well it called to my soul.
I had been surprised when she actually agreed to buy it. It was expensive but looking back now I knew she was on the verge of leaving so she probably would have done anything I asked of her.
I closed my eyes feeling a wave of pain hit me. He hadn't come for me. He had promised to always keep me safe and he lied. How many nights had he sat atop my bed listening to me vent about Iris and my dad? How many nights had he promised things would get better?
I felt a tear slide down my cheek, "you lied to me. You fucking turned your back when I needed you the most." Reaching out I grabbed the first thing my hands could touch, which was my pillow, and chunked it at the mirror. It swayed slightly but remained just that, a mirror.
Wiping my eyes I laid down not bothering to get under the covers, not even bothering to turn the light off and closed my eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut knowing I had to come to terms with reality quickly.
Half asleep, half awake I couldn't help but think of him. I could see his dark hair falling over his eyes. I could hear his voice calling my name. "I need you," I whispered to the air as I drifted further into sleep.
The next morning I awoke pulling the blanket up over me to block some of the light coming through the thin curtains in the bedroom. Instantly I sat up looking at the quilt that lay over me. Turning I looked at the chair across the room where the quilt had sat last night.
How had it ended up in bed with me? Had I got up in the middle of the night cold? Wouldn't I have just crawled up under the bedsheets? Putting my hands to my head I winced at the headache forming.
Looking on my nightstand I saw that my pill bottles and realized that I hadn't taken my medication last night. Was that why I didn't remember getting up? Wouldn't it be the other way around?
Standing up I folded the cover up setting it back down in the chair before heading to the bathroom. I started work today but I worked the evening shift so I still had plenty of time to try and make the place feel a little bit like mine.
Walking out of my bathroom I stopped in front of the mirror and stared at it intently. "Did you come out last night?"
Shaking my head I rolled my eyes, "get a grip Sydney. You sound crazy."
It took less than an hour to finish unpacking my bag and the things that Iris and dad had bought me last night. I wasn't hungry but I knew I needed to take my medicine so I made some buttered toast and sat at the small table eating it slowly.
The pills sat in front of me and I wondered just what would happen if I didn't take them. What could one day hurt? I had made it through the night. I mean a blanket had somehow moved in the middle of the night but I was sure I had gotten cold and in a half-sleep daze got it. He didn't care enough to cover me up if I was cold. He couldn't even be bothered to save me when I needed him the most.
Getting up I took my plate to the sink and washed it before setting it in the draining board to dry. Turning back to the table I stared at the pills before picking them up and throwing them in the trash. Today I would be me, today I would see things with a clear head.
Hearing a thump I frowned trying to figure out where it would have come from. Walking around the small apartment I found myself stopping in front of the door that lead down to the bookstore. They had said it was locked from the other side but I still found myself unhooking the chain and twisting the lock opening the door.
Finding myself face to face with the actual door that lead downstairs I reached out and grabbed it expecting to find it locked but the knob twisted smoothly in my hands. I paused as the door opened ominously in front of me. Why wasn't this door locked?
"Hello, " I called wondering if maybe Peter hadn't tried to knock on the door and had already gone back downstairs.
Hearing no response I did the stupid thing and walked down the narrow steps that lead to the bookstore. It was still dark and I wondered if Peter was ever going to do anything with the place.
The moldy smell of old books filled my lungs and the whole scene was a little eerie. Nothing had changed since I had been gone. Nothing. Walking further into the room I looked around noticing how dusty everything was. Running my finger down one of the bookshelves I frowned.
Walking up and down the dark isles I ran my fingers over books thinking that it wouldn't hurt if I borrowed just one. I would bring it back. Stopping I squinted looking at a familiar row of books that I had read in the past. They had been way too mature for me but Mrs. Carrington hadn't seemed to care.
Reaching out I grabbed one and started reading the back cover when I felt once again as if was being watched. From the corner of my eye I saw something move. Dropping the book I saw a shadow slip further into the darkness.
"Please don't go," I called out running toward the darkness only to hit a book cart sending it crashing to the floor. My body pretty much tangled with the cart sending me flying over it. I grimaced reaching down running my fingers over my knees feeling the wetness that affirmed my suspicion that I had banged it up.
Getting up I shook my head, "your so stupid Sydney. He isn't real. He never was. This is why you have to take your medicine."
Limping upstairs I felt tears once again fall from my eyes. I really was crazy. I had still held out just the tiniest glimmer of hope that HE was real.HE was only real when I was off my meds.
Making sure to lock both the doors back I went straight to my room and popped my pills. I needed to be sane when I started my new job, not seeing shadows where they weren't. Sitting down in the living room I opened my borrowed book and tried to get lost in someone else's drama for once.