I was staring intoÂ the old mirror, the one that wasÂ hidden underÂ dust and cobwebs in our attic,Â when the hallucination happened.
I used to go up into that attic every single day to play with all the old stuff up there my parents kept, and I loved watching myself in that mirror.
The little girl seemed to appear out of thin air in the mirrorÂ but for some reason I didn’t panic. I didn’t even gasp, I just kept staring into the mirror like nothing had change.
“You can’t keep lying to yourself, Violet”.
I almost cracked a smile, “Me, lie to myself, never”.
The little girl mimicked me, “since when did you become so sarcastic?”
I shrugged,”thats like asking me when I started going crazy. Your not going to get an accurate answer”.
The little girl began to laugh softly.
I felt my face tighten up, I used to know that laugh, years ago.
“So, you going to admit to yourself that you can’t stand the sight of me here in your mirror?”
It was my turn to laugh softly, looking at that eight year old version of me was tearing me apart, but I was stronger and smarter then she was. When I was eight I didn’t know anything, I had the power over her now.
“What would make you say that?”
The little girl unfolded her arms that were over her chest and gave me a knowing look, her semi-long black hair flowing down over her shoulders, her sharp green eyes wide and curious.
I missed that look like crazy.
“The way your looking at me, it’s very contradictory”, she narrowed her eyes.
“Could you stop analyzing me for one second?” I scoffed.
The little girl arched an eyebrow.
I sighed, knowing exactly what she was trying to tell me. She was right, I do overanalyze myself too much. I used to not question howÂ I felt orwhy I felt it, now being older, it was like I had every doubt inside me that I didn’t when I was eight.
The little girl finally spoke again when she was sure I had finished my thought, “what are you doing up here anyway after all these years? After what happened, it’s like you completely forgot how much fun you used to have up here”, the little girl, me, folded her arms over her chest, staring off to the side like something was there, avoiding my gaze.
I bit my lower lip, “Honestly, I though I could-”
“Remember the old you? You can remember how you used to be all you want Violet, it isn’t going to bring that litte girl back”.
“I don’t want you back”. I knew this was true, I didn’t want that part of me back because everyting I went through because of what happened to me when I was eight, that made me a better person, someone I wouldn’t trade. Still, part of me wanted to go back to when I was eight, believe I could still be the happy, innocent little girl I was once, the on who believed that fireflies were actually microscopic fairies and that elves lived in the forest around her house. The little girl who believerd that anythingÂ isÂ possible.
“Your not a good liar Violet, never were. If your so sure that you don’t want me back then go ahead and walk away, show me how much stronger you are after all these years of suffering and torture”, she growled at me.
I took in a deep, cleansing breath, trying to steady my anger, “I’m not like you anymore, Violet. I never will be, I couldn’t be even if I wanted too”.
“Why is that? Why are you so convinced you couldn’t go back?” She asked me, a hint of sorrow in her voice.
“It’s called growing up”, I shrugged, taking a step away from the mirror.
“Your never going to get better, you know that, right? The last time you were ever happy was when you were eight years old! How does that feel Violet, to know you’ve lived eight years of your life in self hatred?”
I turned around and grabbed the door handle, almost ready to walk out.
I stopped, turned back around and glared at myself, “maybe your right, maybe I’m not going to get better. But you know something, I don’t have to get better. What happened is a part of me, always will be, I’m not going to trry and change that”.
I turned back and opened the door swiftly.
I huffed, “yes?”
“I miss you”.
I didn’t answer her, just closed the door behind me, locked it, and went back down the stairs to rejoin reality.
“I’m done missing you”.