Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

by Lisa Ann Porter

  Run. Get away. Her foot pressed further onto the gas pedal; it had almost touched the floor of the car when a persistent ringing sound penetrated her anguished hazed mind.

  Realizing for the first time that she was speeding, quickly glancing into her rearview mirror, she allowed her foot to ease up off the gas pedal, bringing the car back down to the legal speed limit.

  The persistent ringing sounded like loud chimes in the quiet car. It was her cellular phone. Reaching for the phone, her hand hesitated.

  Lorna thought about not picking it up; it might be Nick. She did not want to deal with Nick. Not now. She could not. The phone continued to ring. Taking a deep breath, she decided to answer the call. It was Sable.

  “Lorna? Are you all right?” It was a dumb question, she knew. But her concern for Lorna coupled with her spontaneous marriage to Stephen, and the knowledge that the murdering swine, whose tainted blood also ran through her veins, her grandfather, had her mind running in circles, looking for a quiet place to rest.

  Shuffling through mounds of papers on her desk, “Tell me where you are and I’ll come over. We can talk if you want…or not.” Finally finding the document she was looking for, Sable sat back into her chair, allowing her head to fall onto the headrest.

  Mentally, she exhaled. Lorna was so quiet on the other end; Sable could hear cars as they drove by her, some honking their horns. Listening, she did not know if that was a good sign or not. She waited.

  Driving so slowly down the freeway, cars were honking their horns for her to get out of their way, but she could not get herself to drive any faster. She was tired. Knowing that Sable was on the other end, trying to be patient with her, almost made her smile.

  Sable had a nervous energy about her that kept her moving. Lorna loved Sable. Sable had been the sister she always wanted but never had. “Sable,” she finally said. “I’m okay…I just need to be alone for a while.” Then she was quiet again.

  Saying nothing for a moment, Sable understood. “Lorna, where are you?” Leaning forward in her chair, she wished she knew how to take Lorna’s pain away.

  Briefly looking around her, “I’m on Interstate 85 heading…I don’t know where.” Saying quietly, really not caring where she was going. She just wanted to be alone.

  Remembering her father’s cabin in the mountains, Sable had an idea where Lorna could go. “Lorna…Daddy has a cabin in the mountains off I-85 heading west. Remember I told you about it once?” She asked hopefully.

  “Yes, I remember.” Lorna said tiredly.

  “Go there, Lorna. Take as much time as you need. I will tell Daddy that you are there. I’m sure it will be all right.” She wanted to cry. “If you need me, you know where I am…always.”

  Forcing herself not to cry, it was the last thing Lorna needed. Sable reined in her emotions. She knew Lorna needed somewhere to go where she would not be hounded by the media or by Nick. “Lorna, are you still there?” Concern for Lorna echoed in her voice.

  “Yes…yes, I’m still here.”

  “The key is in the hanging plant on the left as you face the door. If you can’t find it, call me back, but I am sure it will be there.”

  The cabin sounded like a good idea. Thanking Sable and ensuring her that she would be fine, Lorna disconnected the call and turned off her cell phone. She was not too far from the cabin. She could hardly wait to get there.

  Sable was staring at her phone when her father walked into her office. “What’s wrong, honey?” He knew his little girl and could tell when something was bothering her. George saw the evidence of tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

  “I just hung up with Lorna.” Blinking back tears, “…she’ll be using the cabin.” George shook his head in agreement that it was a good idea.

  Running her hands through her hair in frustration, “Daddy? How could any parent do that to their child? How could they?” Sable’s voice cracked with pain as tears silently made their way down her cheeks.

  George did not know what to say to his daughter as he watched her silently crying for her friend. He knew that it would be a long time before Lorna healed from the pain inflicted upon her by her parents.

  Walking around her desk, he gently lifted Sable from her chair and held her in his arms. It was not often that he saw his little girl cry. She had been crying a lot lately, he thought sadly, and it still shook him to the core of his heart.

  Holding her tightly as racking sobs of tears rushed down her cheeks, he gently started to rock her as he once did when she was a child. Thank God she has Stephen, who was standing silently at the door and had heard some of the conversation.

  As Stephen slowly entered the office, George gently turned Sable around placing her in Stephen’s outstretched arms. Walking toward the still open door, with one brief look behind him, George silently closed the doors to Sable’s office, knowing that his daughter was in safe loving arms.

  Chapter 35

  Turning off the interstate onto a gravel dirt road, Lorna felt the tension in her shoulders easing. There were too many thoughts racing around in her head at one time.

  Feeling a tension headache trying to burst its way to the forefront of her already throbbing temples, she intentionally forced her eyes on the lush green tall trees aligning each side of the road like tall soldiers guarding their domain.

  Pulling up in front of the cabin, she sat in the car for a few moments, trying to control the emotions swirling inside of her. Freedom. Trying to contain the desire to scream or cry, she clutched the steering wheel even tighter, not once taking her eyes off the cabin.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned off the engine. Safety. Momentarily closing her eyes, allowing the feeling to engulf her, she willed herself to remain calm.

  Opening her eyes, taking the keys out of the ignition, she grabbed her purse and got out of the car. Immediately Lorna felt a sense of relief that made her want to cry. She had escaped. She had escaped the media, Nick, her mom and her pain.

  Entering the cabin, the smell of wood and pinecones assaulted her senses. Her purse slipped from her fingers, landing in a quiet thump at her feet. Lorna fell to her knees, gripping her shoulders in a futile attempt to remain calm. Old pinewood strapped at her knees as she began to rock. An anguished scream clawed at her throat demanding to be let out. Heavy tears formed in her eyes, clouding her vision.

  She let out a small huff of breath as hot tears ran down her cheeks like rushing rivers of water. Then bending over, as if in torrid agony, Lorna released the scream clawing at her throat, sending birds nesting in the nearby trees scurrying in fear.

  She did not remember how long she stayed on her knees screaming and crying. But, when it was over, she felt good. She was weak. She was tired, but she felt good. She had escaped.

  After unpacking, and looking around the cabin, she went for a long leisurely walk. She liked the woods; it was quiet and still except for a few squirrels and birds. Once she got back to the cabin, she started to prepare herself a bowl of soup. Just as she was dipping the last of the remaining broth into her bowl, she glanced out of the window; her hand froze in midair.

  The hot broth in the soup ladle slipped unnoticed onto the kitchen counter, missing the bowl entirely. Lorna really believed she had escaped everything until she saw the sun going down, the sky painting itself in brilliant shades of reds, oranges and purples.

  Mesmerized, she watched as the sky slowly went from purple to dark blue, and then the moon came up, illuminating the night and all its secrets.

  The soup, now cold, sat untouched on the kitchen counter. Turning slowly away from the window, Lorna walked into the living room, grabbing the blanket from the sofa; she went outside and sat in the rocker.

  Shrinking herself into a tight ball, she started crying hysterically, burying her face into her knees, trying to hide from the pain that was as much a part of her as her fingers and toes. There was no hiding. She could not run.

  Like waters from a severe rainstorm, violent hot tears rushed down L
orna’s cheeks without restraints. She cried hard. The tears constantly flowed and would not stop.

  Rocking vigorously, crying, and hugging the blanket so tightly her knuckles hurt from the pain, Lorna vomited violently as agonizing memories beat against the defenses of her fragile mind, reminding her of the past. Her present. Telling her, she had no future.

  By the time the tears were spent and her stomach emptied of what little food was in it, Lorna’s eyes were red and almost swollen shut. Her sinuses were running like a leaking faucet, and she was terribly exhausted. She wanted to die.

  Slowly rocking back and forth, facing all the demons of the past and present, she cried a little more, because they would not leave her alone. Physically exhausted from a lack of food, sleep, and crying herself dry, she fell into a coma-like sleep. Lorna awoke the next morning to the songs of birds chirping, the warmth of the sun upon her tear-stained face, and still sitting in the rocker curled up in the blanket.

  When three mentally hellish weeks had gone by at the pace of an old snail, Lorna realized that she could not hide from the world forever, even though she wanted to. She had to confront her fears. The only way of doing that was to go back to her apartment, her job at Van Cleef Enterprises, and face the catastrophic relationship she had with her mom.

  She slowly, but determinedly, packed up her belongings and left the cabin in hopes of finding her life. Not her dad, the minister who would not acknowledge her existence to the world. Not her mother whom she could never make happy, and not Nick whom she always had to give to and whatever she gave was never enough. But she wanted a life and hers alone.

  There has to be a better way of living. There just has to be or she would die, she thought, as she started the car and left the solitude of the woods behind. Fear was beating at her with each roll of the tires, kicking up dirt and gravel, vividly reminding her of her past.

  Fear. Her constant companion since childhood, like a friend, was not. She had not realized until that moment, as fear replayed her life before her eyes, how living in fear was as normal to her as breathing. She did not know how to live any other way. Was there another way?

  Traffic was moving along nicely, so the drive to her apartment was uneventful. As she turned onto her street, noxious anxiety started to beat at her. Lorna’s heart raced at an alarming pace.

  Parking in front of her apartment building, she sat there for a while, trying to build up the courage to get out of the car. It took tremendous effort to get her hands and feet to do what she wanted them to do.

  Get out of the car. Move forward. When her nerves had pulled so tight, she had thought they would snap, she pushed open the car door and got out.

  Facing her apartment building, Lorna took several deep breaths, and on shaky legs moved toward the front entrance in a zombie-like trance. With each step she took, she heard several people yelling dead man walking! Stumbling slightly, bracing herself on the paint-chipped banister, she nervously looked around her as a soft breeze eerily caressed her cheeks. The street was empty; nothing moved except a lone squirrel scurrying up a tree.

  Taking several deep breaths, Lorna finally made it into her apartment building. Glancing around, the lobby was empty. As she walked toward the elevators, the silence of the lobby made the heels of her shoes sound like loud booms with each step she took. Pushing the bottom to open the elevator, she stepped inside and breathed a sigh of relief; she had made it this far, she thought nervously. “I can do this,” she whispered.

  Pushing the button for the sixth floor, she watched the doors slowly close, as perspiration began to coat her palms like shear grease. Rubbing her palms down her thighs, she timidly watched numbers on the panel lit in brilliant red with each ascent to her floor.

  The elevator made a soft thump once it reached the sixth floor, and then slowly the doors opened announcing the end of her trip. Mentally preparing herself for the challenge ahead, reaching inside her purse, Lorna fumbled around for her keys, slowly making her way toward her apartment.

  Standing in front of her apartment door, Lorna’s hands were shaking so badly, her fingers went limp causing her keys to fall, scattering to the floor.

  Staring at the door, as if she looked hard enough, she could see what or who was awaiting her on the other side, Lorna stood there for several minutes trying to calm herself. Not taking her eyes off the door, she stooped down and with trembling fingers felt around the floor for her keys.

  Feeling the cold metal of her key ring on her fingers, she gripped it tightly as though it were a lifeline. Standing upright, her chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, she gazed down at the silver doorknob.

  Inserting a key, feeling the cool smooth metal in her damp palm, she gradually turned the knob. Anxiety was viciously attacking her again, beating at her. Fear whispered in a sinister voice, what if Harry was not dead? What if he is in there waiting for you? It softly cooed as Lorna began to violently shake all over.

  Eyes wide with fear, hands out in front of her to ward off an attack, the door flew open with a violent force and Lorna’s screams could be heard throughout the building.

  One of her neighbors came rushing up to her, “Lorna! Lorna! Are you all right?” He yelled repeatedly, but Lorna could not hear him.

  Run! Run! Her mind was screaming at her to move, but she was frozen in fear. With her back up against a wall, the look of stark terror painting her face like a canvas, Lorna screamed with the force of a turbulent windstorm, rushing violently throughout the building.

  Closed doors seemed to vibrate, and opened windows quivered, as more neighbors gathered into the hall, curious as to what was going on. Lorna was still screaming, unaware of the soft touch of old Mrs. Patterson’s wrinkled hand, gently patting her shoulders like a newborn, telling her that everything was all right. She did not hear her. She could not.

  The courage she had used to leave the cabin in the woods to come back to her apartment had deserted her. All her senses had gone into fight or flight overload.

  In her screams, the foul tang of fear as it poured out of her mouth, leaving a horrible taste on her tongue, caused her throat to throb in pain. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, were riveted on her now open apartment door, awaiting the terror within to come into focus.

  The only words that she could hear clearly were in her mind…run! Run! But she could not move. Her hands, still outstretched in front of her, could feel no anchor. She had neither anything nor anyone to hold on to. The stench of loneliness filled her nostrils with a smell so pungent, she started gasping for breath…she could not breathe. You are going to die! Her mind screamed at her.

  Firmly gripping her shoulders, Ronald, the first neighbor on the scene and who had a major crush on her, shook Lorna until she looked at him. When he had first heard her screaming, he bolted out of his apartment and ran down the hall fearing that she was hurt.

  When he came upon her and could not get her to stop screaming, he saw that her door was open. Quickly going in to investigate, he saw nothing but an opened window with flowing curtains flapping from the incoming breeze.

  “Lorna!” gently shaking her until she finally calmed down. “Lorna, there is no one there,” spacing his words as if talking to a frightened child. “Lorna,” he said calmly, “The winds from the hall…look at the window, Lorna…” Her eyes, wide with fear, glanced at the open hall window.

  Patiently Ronald continued. “And the windows in your apartment are both open. The wind blew the door open when you unlocked it,” he paused. “Do you understand? The wind blew the door open. There is no one there.” He could see the evidence of stark terror in her haunted eyes.

  She said nothing. He continued to speak as if to a frightened child. “I will walk through the apartment with you. We will check every closet, every room and under the beds together, okay?” He still had her gently but firmly by the shoulders.

  For the first time since putting her keys into the lock, Lorna’s eyes slowly came into focus. She gazed at Ronald intently. He had always
been kind to her, she remembered. Taking her gently by the hand, they both went in together checking every room. She even had him check under her bed.

  When Lorna was satisfied and calmed, Ronald sat her down on the sofa and made some hot tea. He listened as Lorna quietly spoke of her childhood, her modeling, and briefly about what happened in her apartment.

  He had read about it, but didn’t know all the details. He knew now why she had freaked out when opening her door. Her story sickened him. He wanted to comfort her, but knew that he would have to be very careful with Lorna, because her emotions were fragile and on edge. She would need time to heal and he would be there to help her through it. If she let him, he thought.

  Ronald had been attracted to Lorna since she first moved into the building, but he had no idea how to approach her. By the time he found the courage to ask her out on a date, Lorna was dating someone else. Nick.

  He would be there for her, if she let him; this was his last thought as she thanked him, then closed the door to her apartment.

  Ronald stood for several moments in the hall silently staring at her closed door. The walk back to his apartment was a slow one, as his mind replayed their last hour together.

  Chapter 36

  Sitting on the sofa, with her knees pulled up to her downcast chin, Lorna watched the lights on her answering machine blinking and beeping, demanding that she answer her calls. The little red light reminded her that life was still waiting, and she was a part of it whether she wanted to be or not. She knew that most of the messages, if not all of them, were from Nick.

  Shivering at the thought, reaching over she turned off the machine just as the phone let out one loud ominous ring. Looking at the indicator, she saw that she had one hundred and two messages.

  Briefly closing her eyes to collect her thoughts, she got off the sofa deciding that maybe a nice hot bath would help her feel better. Glancing at the now silent answering machine, she walked over to the outlet and yanked the cord out of the wall.