Therapy Ever After (Therapy #1.5) (11 page)

“No, Riah, watch,” a deep voice says from behind, startling me.

I try to look behind me, but I’m frozen.

“It’s of no matter who I am right now. Just watch,” the voice says, as if having read my mind.

I don’t try to argue. I obey the strange voice. I watch my very last moments on earth as I bleed out every drop of pain I ever felt.

My legs weaken and I fall . “What’s happening?” Where am I? Answer me!” I scream.

I wait for the voice to answer, but there’s only silence. I look back to my limp and lifeless body in the mirror. I want to pick me up. I want to hug me. I reach out, but I can’t reach through. I tap the mirror lightly with my finger and it cracks. The crack spiders, and in an instant it shatters into a million jagged pieces, falling all around me. Nothing’s left but a black hole where the mirror once was. I look to the next rectangle. I’m too scared to stand before it and see what it holds inside. I don’t want to see anymore.

“Go, Riah. Every mirror in this room leads you closer to the key you want so desperately. You have to look into them all before you’ll be able to find it.”

It’s like I’ve climbed a steep mountain, made it to the top, and then tumbled back down to the bottom without ever taking the time to enjoy the view while I was up there. I was too busy falling to see the beautiful landscape that was my life. Fear overwhelms me as I begin drowning in a pool of desolate regret. The further I sink, the closer I get—to what?

Nervously, I touch mirror number two, and oddly it brings me back to the white room, where I find myself sitting beside the tall stack of blank papers. Nothing here makes sense.

“Take a paper, Riah. Take the pen too. Go back to the room of mirrors and watch. Then, I want you to write about what you see.”

I turn my head to the right and then left.

“Who are you and why do I have to do any of this? What is this place?” I whisper.

There’s no reply.

I drop my head into my hands and close my eyes. All of this is insane.
I’m dead!
Why does any of this even matter?
A million questions pillage my thoughts. There’s not a reasonable answer for any of them. Lifting my head, I focus on the paper. When I pick up the pen, I run my fingers across the soft plume. A drop of ink falls from the tip into the ink well.
White ink?
I’ve never seen white ink before.
How am I supposed to write with white on white? You won’t be able to read a single word.
I let out an exasperated sigh and decide to do it anyway. When I get back to the knob-less door with paper and pen in hand, I dread enduring the fall once again. Taking a deep breath, I reach out with one hand and press it against the cold door.

Back in the glass room, I go straight to the next mirror. I try to prepare myself for what I’ll see on the other side. It becomes liquid just as the last one did. When I touch it, I see all of them in our kitchen. My eyes grow wide and sadness stirs deep within me. I see them . . . all of them.

My family.