After the classroom incident, they sent me to the counselor. I hate her to be honest, she asks a lot of questions.
"Dissociation,"she said gently, scrubbing something on the notepad I wasn't allowed to see. "It's common after trauma. Your brain is protecting you. Slipping away for a bit."
I nodded like I understood. I bid her a bye and started walking towards my class.
"Dissociation? Trauma? Does that mean mom is also suffering from this?" I thought for a while until I entered the class.
History class has just started. Ms.Quincy barely glanced up when I shuffled in, just gestured for me to take my seat with a pen in her hand.
"Ok class, open page 142 now." She said, like nothing was out of place.
I sat down, still half glued to that counselor's words, but I opened my textbook. The pages felt damp-not wet I would say, just soft at the edges, like they were handled with wet fingers.
Near the margin of page 142, in thin, scratchy pencil, were seven words:
Do you wanna come to the Ridge?"
It wasn't in my handwriting.
I knew it hadn't been there before.
I looked around with curious eyes trying to see who did this, but it seems like none of my classmates were interested in scribbling in a weird introvert's book.
But things didn't stop.
That night, I caught my reflection lagging.
I was brushing my teeth, and when I looked up, my reflection blinked a half second late. I stared at it and it started back, but it didn't feel like mine.
I leaned in, toothpaste foaming at my lips.
I swear to god, it smiled before I did.
"I can't tell this to Mara, she'll think I'm a psycho!" I whispered.
Aunt Mara moved in three weeks after the funeral. She said it was temporary-until Mom was "settled" on her own.
She wasn't really my aunt-more like a second cousin, the kind adults say was "close like family." She wore a heavy sweater, kept mint in all of the pockets and had a voice like she'd smoked half of her life.
"You eating anything beside toast?" she asked the morning after the mirror thing. She was flipping eggs with a wooden spoon.
I shrugged.
"Mm," she muttered. "That's what I thought."
She didn't press upon the fact that I was behaving very unusual but she did notice everything. Like how I avoided the mirror, how I checked the lock twice at night, how I flinched at the sound of running water.
She never asked questions, not really. But I caught her watching me sometimes.
I didn't want her to know that now I stopped using the mirror completely. Covered the one in the bathroom with an old towel.
Things didn't get better.
I started finding mud under my fingernails again. I would wake up with my drawing sheets scattered on the floor while the door was still locked.
One night, I caught mom outside. Barefoot, wearing her nightgown and staring into the woods behind our house.
I ran to the backyard and stood beside her.
"Mom?" I whispered.
She didn't look at her. Just said, softly, like it hurt:
"He's waiting for you, but he's not alone anymore."
"Mom, who is waiting for me? Where have you been all this time?" I finally spoke in a little high pitched voice.
Mom finally looked at me. Her face was pale, her lips were blue and her hair was messy. She directly grabbed my neck and started choking me.
"M-m-om wh-a-t a-are you d-d-oing?" I cried trying to free myself.
"ELI, GET UP!" Aunt Mara shouted on top of her lungs.
I was dreaming, once again. I don't know when all of this would stop.
"I'm sorry Aunty! It was just a bad dream, nothing much." I said in a trembling voice.
"It's okay, if you need anything remember I am in the hall." saying this she left my room.
The next morning, Aunt Mara acted like nothing was wrong. She made tea that tasted like old flowers and read books in the living room with the TV on mute.
But once, after seeing me stare at nothing for too long, she put her hand on my shoulder and said, "When the world slips sideways, you anchor yourself. Toothbrush in the cup, lamp by the bed. Something small that doesn't move"
I didn't answer. I just stared at the towel hanging over the mirror.
She followed my eyes.
"Have you ever seen things in reflection?" She asked, like she was asking about the weather.
I said no.
She nodded once, like she didn't believe me and walked away.
The days ahead were no different. Every night there would be whispers, sometimes it felt like it was Noah. The school felt like a haunted house and I felt suffocated.
The next day, I stayed home. I told Mara I was sick, which wasn't exactly wrong. My head felt like it was filled with water. Like I was hearing things through a tank.
I sat in my room all morning, staring at my journal, waiting for it to do something.
By afternoon, I gave up.
I went back to the Ridge. I have no idea why I did that.
The path was quiet. I don't know why but this place now felt unfamiliar to me, like it had shifted just enough to throw me off balance.
I climbed the hill slowly this time, like the trees were watching, like the air might push me backward.
And that's when I saw it.
The boulder.
And someone standing on it.