When I got home I went straight for my room. Dropping my books on my bed I catch a glance of my reflection.
"What?" He is judging me "Who do you think you are?" I turn away He can't see me if I am not looking. I know from experience that is a lie.
I lay on my bed trying to wrap my head around it, what would it even sound like: "Mom? Would you still love me… if I…" I can't even say it.
Instead I pick up his photo "River I love you… lets runaway" I sit up "Yeah lets runaway, lets pack our bags and run as far away from this hell hole as we can manage to survive. We don’t need much. Lets run and run and never stop, if we leave now we can live forever…” He can see me from the other side of that mirror, I fall back into reality “It’s a fucking dream.”
Looking at his innocent face I ask myself what it is ‘Why… do I love you?’ I hold myself up to the mirror. I hate what I see, He hates me too.
“Who the hell are you?” I try to scream, He is testing me “What the fuck are you looking at? Why cant you just be like everybody else, why cant you just be normal?” I plead “Please just fantasize about Kelly Preston or Pamela Anderson or even Janet Jackson like normal people” I instinctively grab for the magazines under my mattress “fuck right now I’d settle for anyone but…” I flip the pages “Why do you do this to me?” What did I do to deserve this HELL? “Why does it have to be you?” Mr. December “YOU DISGUST ME!” turning pages “or you?” A tear falls into the crack of the binding “YOU MAKE ME…SICK” I am angry, I throw the magazine across my bed and get as close to the accuser in the mirror as possible “No YOU are SICK… You make me ill, you don’t deserve to live, and GOD look at you, you’re” I wipe the patetic tears away from my god lost eyes “you are pathetic… oh ‘boohoo’ I’m a poor pathetic little pansy, you’re no better than those…” I look back toward the magazine, He smiles up at me from behind his beautiful eyes, I pick up his photo “River?” I pick it up and wipe the image with my finger “look at you.” If the marker hadn’t fallen out of my pack I don’t think I would have done it but with one fowl swoop “I’m sorry” I erased his face and throw it to the floor, the tears won’t stop “Why do I have to love you?” the mirror calls me back but he knows “I wasn’t talking to you STUPID FUCKING” I write the word across the reflection “FAGGOT!”
If I could have broken the mirror one look is all I would have taken.
I need out.