The Missing Mirrors
Michael rushed me through the discharge process.
He barely spoke to the nurses, practically pulling me into his SUV in the hospital parking garage.
He was dead silent the entire drive home.
He kept one hand firmly gripped on the steering wheel and held my hand with the other.
His palm was dripping with cold sweat.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, my voice muffled and shaking.
My mind was reeling from what Dr. Harris had told me.
An accident?
An illegal surgery?
What was happening?
“I’m just tired,” Michael muttered, his eyes locked straight ahead on the road.
The moment I walked through our front door, I realized something had fundamentally changed in our home.
The large, vintage mirror that always hung above the living room fireplace was completely gone.
The decorative mirror in the front hallway had disappeared too.
There were just bare, faded outlines on the painted walls where they used to be.
My heart started beating a little faster.
I hurried into the master bathroom.
The mirrored door of my medicine cabinet had been physically unscrewed and removed.
The expensive full-length mirror in our bedroom was gone as well.
When I walked back out to the living room, I saw that Michael had even covered our glass coffee table with a thick white bedsheet to prevent any reflection.
“What’s going on?” I whispered, confusion and pure panic rising in my chest.
He stood in the doorway, his face pale and completely drained of color.
“I removed them.”
“All the mirrors? Why?”
“You shouldn’t see yourself yet.”
I laughed nervously, feeling a sharp pain radiate through my swollen face.
“Michael, the doctor told me I’d be bruised. I already know what to expect. This is crazy.”
“It’s not about the swelling,” he said.
His voice trembled.
He looked like he was about to be physically sick right there on the hardwood floor.
I stepped closer to him.
“Then what is it? What aren’t you telling me? Dr. Harris showed me the metal piece. He told me about the trauma. What do you know about this?”
Michael closed his eyes, taking a ragged, desperate breath.
“Emily… during the surgery, the doctor discovered something… and I need you to listen to me very carefully before you react.”
He was about to continue when someone suddenly pounded on our front door.
Three times.
Slow, heavy, authoritative knocks.
Michael’s eyes snapped open.
From the absolute sheer terror on his face, I knew instantly that he already knew exactly who was standing outside.
“Don’t open it,” he whispered, his voice cracking, stepping forward to grab my arm.
May you like
But I pulled away.
I was already walking toward the door.
