by Bailey James
“Your father just talked with that psychiatrist the other doctor recommended. He wants to admit you. To run some more tests.”
The blood drains from my face. “No!” I whisper as her words steal the breath from my lungs. “I’m not crazy.”
Ty jerks as if I’ve hit him. “No one’s saying you’re crazy, Lily.”
I spin around in his suddenly loose arms. “Aren’t you?” I demand, glaring and fighting tears that burn the backs of my eyes. I refuse to give any of them the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
“No, kiddo, we aren’t,” Dad says, in the most patronizing way possible.
I slowly spin to face him. “You’re taking me to a psychiatrist, who’s going to admit me because you don’t believe me. If you don’t think I’m crazy, what do you think?” My voice is calm, a direct contrast to the hurricane of emotions swirling through me.
No one says anything, and I nod. “I think that proves my point.”
Dad sighs. “It proves nothing, young lady, except that we believe you need help.”
“Yeah, I do need help,” I say and watch relief pour into his eyes. “I need you to believe me. That’ll help.”
“We’re just worried about you,” Mom tries again.
Where the fuck are Cindy and Rowan?
“You’re not worried!” I snap. “You just want to shut me up because what I’m saying doesn’t make sense to you, but you won’t take the time to listen to me.”
“You’re hallucinating,” Alder says very quietly, “that’s not exactly normal.”
“Yeah, Lily, we just need to know there’s nothing wrong with you,” Rose added.
“There is nothing wrong with me!” I shout, startling everyone. “Why won’t you just listen to me?”
Dad closes his eyes for a second, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. When he opens them, the sorrow in them has been replaced with cold, hard steel. “You need to go pack your things, Lily.”
I cross my arms and plant my feet. “No.”
“Either you pack, or your mother will pack for you. What will it be?”
I glare at him. “You can’t make me do this. I’m almost eighteen.”
“We were hoping you’d agree…” Mom starts to say, but Dad interrupts her.
“You’re still a minor, but even if you were eighteen, I still have the power to force you to get the help you need. There’s laws set up for just this kind of situation.” He glances at Mom and then softens his tone. “But it would be easier if you just agreed.”
I lick my lips. “Well, I don’t. I don’t want to do this!” Angry tears still burn my eyes and make my cheeks feel stiff.
“Please, Lily, just go,” Rose says, her voice strangled.
“You can’t make me!” I sound like a two-year-old, but I can’t help it, nor do I care. They aren’t listening to me, and I’m desperate.
“Don’t make us call the police,” Dad warns. “We don’t want to, but we will if it’s the only way to help you. They’ll put you in an emergency hold and keep you there for seventy-two hours.”
Shock, hurt, and betrayal war in me as I stare around at my family. I close my eyes. Depression coats me, replacing the defiance. “You’re really going to force me to go, aren’t you?”
I open them quickly when Mom’s foot scrapes along the floor as she steps forward. “Don’t think of it that way; we’re just trying to help.”
I shake off the hand she places on my arm and glare around at my family. Mom and my sister look sad; my brother too serious. The worst part is seeing the determination on Dad’s face. He’s willing to call the police on me if I resist. I feel sick.
My mind is racing as I plot how to escape this. There’s really only one way, and while I’m terrified, it’s my only choice.
I hug my arms around my body. My voice is barely above a whisper but filled with steel when I say, “I’ll pack my own things, but I will never forgive any of you.”
I whirl and pound up the stairs. Ty makes to follow me, but Dad stops him. “Give her time to herself.”
When I turn the corner and hear them talking about the program I’m being admitted to, tears flood out and run down my face. There is no way I’m going to get them to believe me. No matter what I say, it’s too out there for them to even consider.
I’ll have to find a way to escape. There has to be a way. My mind swirls as possibilities fly through it. They’ll probably give me medication, but I can palm those. It probably has bars on the window, but maybe I can slip out through a service entrance or something. I won’t know until I get there. Maybe I can run away before I get there. Maybe I should just sneak out of my window. But then where do I go? And I’ll have to hurry and rush straight to the bank if I want to pull out my money before my parents get to it. But I can’t take my car. They’ll just report it as stolen.
I open my door and walk straight to the mirror, shutting and locking the door behind me. Jackson sits there, waiting as he always does; his smile falls when he sees my face. “What happened?” he demands, jumping to his feet and throwing his notebook over his shoulder.
“They’re trying to admit me,” I whisper, finally letting the tears fall.
“What? Oh my God!” He runs his fingers along the mirror, his eyes scouring across it.
“What are you doing?” I run a hand under my running nose.
“Trying to find a way to get to you.”
“There is no way. We’ve tried finding it. There isn’t one.” I continue running plans through my head as I turn and walk over to my dresser and begin pulling out my clothes.
“Don’t give up, Lily. There’s got to be a way.”
“There isn’t,” I say sadly, and pull my suitcase from my closet. “They’ll call the police.”
There comes a tapping noise, and I peer over to see him frantically pressing on every square inch of the glass. I shake my head and go back to packing, trying to control the tears. When I hear thudding, though, I back to see him banging on the glass with his fists. I rush over.
“Jackson! What are you doing?”
“I’m not going to let them take you away from me, Lily.”
It’s then I realize he thinks I’m just going to let them take me away. “We can’t get through. You’re only going to hurt your hands.” Calm down, I mouth, gesturing the same with my hands.
He frowns at me. “You think I care about that right now? I. Will. Not. Lose. You,” he says through clenched teeth. He studies the glass and then focuses on me again as I stare at him in shock. I’ve never seen him this angry before. “Step away from the mirror, Lily.”
I don’t question him. I just rush to the other side of my bed as he hurries to his desk. A thrill runs through my body when he picks up his rolling desk chair—one that looks more like an armchair than anything else—and hurls it at the mirror.
The mirror doesn’t even shimmer.
“Damn it!” he mutters, then runs over to his bed and begins ripping his bedsheets.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand, running back over.
He barely glances over as he wraps the strips of cloth around his hands and then starts punching the glass over and over again. The glass barely budges.
“Jackson!” I say. “Stop. Please. Don’t do this.” Tears trickle out, and he stops, panting from his exertions.
His hand presses on the glass near my face. “I can’t, Lily. I can’t let them do this to you. To us. We belong together. I’m not going to lose you.”
I glance at the door. “I’m not going to let them take me,” I whisper.
“What are you going to do?” he says just as softly.
“I’m going to run.”
“Where?”
I shrug. “I’ll just have to figure that out later.”
Instead of that calming him dow
n, it just seems to make him even more panicky.
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Not as dangerous as being admitted to a mental health facility,” I shoot back.
“I’m not letting you run away alone. I’m going to get through this barrier.”
“Keep trying. I’ll pack my stuff.”
His eyes change, and he attacks the glass with renewed vigor. Even though I know it’s not going to work, I still find myself praying. Please let him break the barrier, I repeat in my head with each fold of cloth. I run around shoving my favorite things in my bag. My laptop—for the songs—my Kindle, my favorite books. Everything I can fit. No matter what happens, I won’t be returning to this room for a long time.
My hope dwindles with each thump he makes against the mirror. Nothing is breaking it. When I see splatters of blood on the glass, I moan at the realization of how desperate Jackson is to get to me. I rush back to him, my backpack still in my hand. He stops trying to break through, his eyes filling with tears.
I move my fingers to his eyes and force a smile. “Don’t cry, please. That’s my job.”
He laughs, but it’s just as forced and desperate as my smile.
Instead of saying anything else, more tears fall. “Shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you to see me as a crying, red-faced hag.”
He brings his hand up to touch the glass under mine. “I don’t. I see you only as my beautiful Tiger Lily.”
More tears fall. “I hate this stupid mirror.”
“Me, too.”
My eyes search the mirror. I just want one touch. A real touch. Not just an illusion. I run my fingers along the frame.
“Lily?” he asks, his eyes focused on my fingers.
“Just trying to find if I can get to you.” When nothing gives under my probing fingers, I sigh. “It’s not fair. I only want one touch. Just one touch.”
He presses his hand against mine. “Don’t give up, Lily. There’s always hope.”
“Lily, are you ready yet?” Mom calls through the door.
“Not yet,” I call back, keeping my eyes on Jackson’s.
“Okay, well, let me know if you need help.”
“Okay.”
She hesitates and then walks down the hall.
“I’m sorry, Lily. I should have stayed.” Jackson places his other hand on the glass.
I lift mine to join Jackson’s. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. I should have been more careful not to say anything. To not let them know something was different,” I whisper. “No matter what. I’ll never forget you.”
“Nor I, you.”
We watch each other for a few minutes, until I hear footsteps coming down the hall again. “I better go.”
He hits the glass again, splattering more blood across the glass. “No, damn it. I’m not giving up, and neither are you.”
The door handle jiggles.
“Lily, open the door,” Dad says.
I ignore him, giving Jackson a sad smile. “There’s no use.”
“Yes, there is. Don’t give up.”
“Lily, open the door this minute!” Dad yells. The doorframe shakes as he pounds on the door.
“I have to go,” I say, glancing at the door.
“Lily. Please. Don’t do this. Open the door,” Ty calls, his voice pinched with worry. The thud of his fists joins my father’s.
Jackson glares over at the door and hits the glass again. “I’m not giving you up to him.”
Ty yells for someone to find the key. Feet thud down the stairs.
“Jackson. Stop. There is no way through. I have to go.”
“Lily, if you don’t open this door right this minute, I’ll break it down,” Dad calls through the door.
When I don’t answer, the unmistakable sound of thumps comes from the door as he rams his body into it. Soon a second body joins his, and I can only imagine it’s Ty. The door bulges with each slap of flesh against the wood.
“Lily, please God, don’t do anything stupid. Just open the door. Let us help you,” Ty yells, gasping with each word as the exertion of trying to get through takes its toll on him.
Jackson growls again.
I have to hurry. It won’t be much longer before they manage to get in, I close my eyes before leaning forward, so my nose just barely touches the glass. When I open them, Jackson is just as close. Our hands press against the glass, and his eyes are oddly intense as he stares into mine.
“I love you,” he says.
Everything about me soars. I close my eyes and savor the feelings that flow through me when he utters those three simple, magic words that change everything. I will remember this moment for the rest of my life.
The banging on my door increases, and I know my dad is almost done making good on his threat. I blink open my eyes. Jackson is watching me with his own filled with anguish. He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.
“I love you, too,” I say, trying to get the words out before it’s too late. “I’m bringing my compact. I’ll keep you updated.”
More voices yell outside my door. Ty pleads with me again to open the door, to not do anything stupid.
This time Jackson ignores him; he has eyes only for me. I lean forward, closing mine, and prepare to kiss the glass between us.
It’s better than nothing.
Our lips touch, and I feel the unmistakable softness of flesh. My eyes fly open. Jackson stares at me with the same shocked look I’m sure is on my face. My door splinters and then bangs against my wall as Jackson’s fingers intertwine with mine, and he yanks me through the mirror. His other arm winds around my waist and pulls me into him while he leans down to kiss me again.
My whole body calms—heart, mind, soul—as the tingles from his caresses run through it. I know now that this is everything I wanted. It doesn’t matter what comes next. Here is everything I need.
Chapter Thirty
~Tyler
Panic zings through my body like lightning. Followed in rapid succession by guilt. I knew Lily hadn’t been acting herself. There’s no way she’d have cheated on me, but I’d been too hurt to see it. And now?
I slam my shoulder into the creaking door again. Come on, damn it. Break!
Now, all I know is I have to get to her. I don’t know what she’s doing behind that door or why she’s not answering, but I do know the more time that passes, the more confident I am that something terrible is happening, and I’ll never see her again.
God, I hope she didn’t try jumping from the window. Images of her crumpled body on the ground outside her window assault me as I wait for her dad to kick the door again, wincing when the door by the handle cracks but doesn’t give, before Alder does the same, cracking it even more.
What the fuck did they make this door out of anyway?
I once again ram the door, and this time, much to my relief, it shatters at the knob, splintering into a million pieces as I shove my way through. But the sight that meets my eyes has me stopping in my tracks, giving Alder and Mr. Baker no time to stop before they’re slamming into me, and we end up a heap on the floor. Still, I can’t take my eyes off the mirror.
The same mirror that’s glowing like it’s being heated in a kiln. I watch in shock as Lily steps through like she’s Alice in Through the Looking Glass.
Holy fucking shit!
I blink a few times, then, before I can think about it, I heave myself out from under Mr. Baker and leap toward the mirror before I even have my feet underneath me. I manage to snag her hand before she’s all the way through, but she doesn’t stop, and her fingers slide through mine like water. She doesn’t so much as twitch, as if she can’t even feel them, and my fist jabs into the hard glass.
“No!” I yell as the mirror for a second shows Lily stepping into the
embrace of another man. One who looks exactly like she described. One who’s looking at Lily as if she’s his whole world. Then, in a blink, the only person I see is my haggard appearance staring back at me with haunted eyes.
“Tyler?” a timid voice says behind me, and I whirl to see Lily’s mom staring at me from the door. “Where’s Lily?”
Unable to even form words, I look down at Alder and Mr. Baker. Alder is staring open-mouthed at the mirror, while Mr. Barker is shoving at Alder, trying to untangle their legs and push to his feet.
He finally manages it, then stands and looks around Lily’s room, fear and anger mixing on his normally stoic face. “Where’d she go?” he asks.
When I don’t answer, he dashes to the window, frowning when it doesn’t open because it’s still locked. He whirls around. “Where is she?” he bellows, but still, I can’t answer.
How the fuck do I tell him that his youngest daughter just walked through a fucking mirror?
“She’s gone,” I whisper.
“Where?” Mr. Baker demands. He comes to stand in front of me and drops his hands onto my shoulders, shoving his face into mine. He shakes me when I don’t answer. “Damn it, boy, where is she?”
“Lily wasn’t hallucinating,” Alder says finally, still sitting on the floor and staring at the mirror. “She really was seeing someone in her mirror. And she just walked through it like it’s a goddamned door.”
“That’s not possible,” Mrs. Baker says, her whole face blanching as the doorbell rings.
Alder glances over at me; his face is grim. I look away, turning my attention back to the mirror as Rose opens the door to whoever is there.
“Hi,” says a high-pitched, overly happy voice. “I’m Cindy, and this is Rowan. We’re here to see Lily.”
To Be Continued:
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Writing a book is a lot like raising a kid. It’s fun. It’s frustrating. And, at some point, you’re bald, gained a few pounds, and look like you’ve gone a few rounds with Valentina Shevchenko. It’s also one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. But, like raising a kid, it sometimes takes a village.