Page 24 of Cursed to Be Mine
But nothing comes.
It stays flat.
Just a mirror.
Reflecting back nothing but my fear.
My wild eyes.
My shaking hands.
“Ma?”
“Don’t come in here!” I shout, terror filling my words. If it comes back… My fingers tighten on the nailscissors.You’re not taking my daughter.
“Are you –”
“I’m fine!” I struggle to keep my voice steadier, not wanting to panic her, not wanting to make her enter in concern. “I just…” I flounder with a reason. “Just wait in the car, Gen,” I say, a parent’s command strict in my tone. “I’ll be out in a second.”
“Are you su–”
“Yes. Now go.”Please.
My ears strain for the sound of her footsteps. I hear nothing over the pounding of my heart.
Sweat pools on my palm, making the scissors slippery.
But the mirror doesn’t ripple.
Nothing moves.
My hand shaking, I keep the scissors with me as I shuffle for the door, my eyes on the mirror. I twist the lock on the knob before stepping out and quickly closing the door behind me. It locks shut.
I shudder in short relief even though my brain is quick to point out that if it can come through the mirror, it can come through a measly door.
No, it can’t. It’s just a hallucination.
Because it doesn’t make sense for the witches to have conjured up some monster only to call it back before it even exited the mirror. So it has to be a trick of my imagination. An output of stress. A manifestation of my fear that I can die at any moment.
Shaking out my hands, I finally release the scissors. They drop to the floor, mocking me from the gray carpet, looking so small and useless.
A feeble laugh escapes me.
It’s just a hallucination.
Don’t go crazy on me.
Striding with surer steps, I head to my closet and pull out clothes for tonight. Comfortable, stretchable pants matched with a skin-tight shirt. Derek says to dress to move even if we can never outrun a werewolf, vampire, or magic. And from the back of the closet, in a safe, I retrieve a gun and ankle holster. Strapping them on, I head for the door.
My eyes drift to the ensuite as my feet root to the gray floor beside my bed. As much as I will myself to move, to go downstairs and meet my daughter, I stop.
Then inch towards the ensuite door and twist the knob. The lock stops it from moving, and so I press an ear against the door, listening even though the creature never made a noise.
It’s just a hallucination,I tell myself as I straighten.
I test the lock one more time before heading into the hall, then downstairs and out of the house.
Scarlett sits in the passenger seat of my half-washed car, nerves twisting her face. A small bit of relief fills her eyes before she looks down at her feet.
