Stiff, freshly cut grass lightly pokes at my arms and ankles, making laying on the ground unbearably itchy. How did I get here? Where is here to begin with?
Propping myself up, I look at the warm scene ahead. It's strange to call a sight familiar and alien at the same time, almost as if the real world has been replaced by one only loosely based on what I've seen. I've woken up in a park, one that bears nearly no resemblance to the one I bring Phoebe to on occasion, yet somehow I recognize it's supposed to represent our familiar haunt. The rusted and worn jungle gym has been replaced by a shimmering silver structure, the sheer size and construction of which makes it too dangerous for its previously intended use. The sandbox, likewise, has grown. The boundaries of the ocean-less shore stretch beyond what I can see and upon its pristine surface, a whole neighborhood of life-sized castles have been built.
Before giving meaningless voice to my confusion, I hear pitter-pattering from inside the largest of the sand structures. An impossibly functional drawbridge lowers, supported by sand-carved chains, throwing all notion of logic and physics right out the window. From over the still solid threshold emerges a rabbit woman, in an adorable red suit, stretching and yawning in the morning sunlight.
“Willow?” I call out, hoping that with a familiar face I might find some answers for my many questions. My friend's eyes fly open at my voice and her jaw drops. She says no words, offers no greeting, only takes off running away from me. “You've got to be kidding me,” I groan as I hasten to my feet in an attempt to follow the already far ahead leader.
Damn her cute, fluffy, supposedly lucky feet for helping her leap forward with each stride. I swear, normally I have an easier time keeping pace with her! My lungs feel like they're about to pop as I haul as much ass as I can down the road. The chase seems futile until Willow comes to a dead stop at a seven-way intersection. Not a car to be seen, but she still pauses her sprint, tapping her foot impatiently as she glares at the stoplight.
Finally able to close the distance, I reach out and grab her shoulder. “Willow… please… wait…” My breathless words fade as I notice something incredibly off. My other arm reaches up as well, just to confirm, and I'm faced with two pale appendages. “What the fuck?”
A small voice next to me gasps, as my little sister appears next to me with a wide grin. “You said a bad word, mommy!” She chides, giggling all the while. “Mommy said a bad word, mommy said a bad word, mommy said…” My sister's voice fades, along with her appearance, until it's just Willow and I standing on the corner together once again.
“I'm waiting,” Willow says, looking at me with confusion, as if my sister playing hopscotch with the boundary of existence and nothingness isn't cause for alarm. “Haley, we simply don't have time to delay!”
“B–but… my sister? My arms? And why were you running away from me!?” My final question tumbles loose, sounding more hurt than I intend. “What's going on?” I finally verbalize, after taking a much-needed breath.
Willow steps closer and grasps both of my shoulders, her eyes meeting mine in a way that makes the blood rush to my face and thoughts evacuate my mind. “It's going to be okay, Haley. Your sister is just fine. Your arms… well, not just your arms, are a bit different than I'm used to seeing, but that's to be expected given the circumstances. And for your point of me running away from you…” Willow's hand darts up as she flicks my forehead lightly. “Come on, do you honestly think I'd still do that?”
Recoiling from her strike, I shrug. “I want to believe you wouldn't, but I guess I'm used to people running away from me. Not like I blame them, I've been a hell of an asshole.”
“That's true… you've been a real infernal anus.”
“Hey!”
The bunny girl laughs until she snorts. “I'm just agreeing with you! The you I first met in the hallway sucked.” I try and fail at not looking wounded by the words I know are true, but Willow just steps closer to me, her hand reaching back up, not to flick me, but to cradle my cheek in her palm. “Sorry to be blunt, Haley… but now's not the time for pulled punches. You've hurt people, girl. No amount of fancy wordplay or tragic backstory makes that go away.” The woman holding my face smiles widely, her eyes glowing an eerie red, before shoving me into the road. From each paved path, a glass pane speeds in, swiftly forming a heptagon cage of mirrored surfaces.
My body wheels around violently, looking for any way out as a familiar laugh echoes around me and every angle is filled with a vision of Helena. “Stop struggling, dear. You know you're right where you belong.”
“No! I–
“You've what? Changed? Since when exactly? Since you met that cute girl you’re crushing on? Since you figured out you might be able to make up with your ex? Doesn't that all seem a bit self-serving?” Wicked laughter rings from all sides as each Helena throws her head back in wicked glee. “Years of making people's lives miserable, and what… one little injury and a poetry recital suddenly redeems you?”
“Luna… she got better.”
“After years of unnecessary suffering caused by–who was it again? That's right! You!” A myriad of Helenas surround me, reflections of reflections, each staring, each laughing as I struggle to escape, banging on the shatterproof walls of my prison in futility. “And what about all the others? The ones even Libby doesn't know about? Where's their happy ending?”
A tail lashes at me, knocking me back into waiting arms that threaten to pull and shred me to pieces. “Stop this! Let me go!”
“And now you’re pleading. Pathetic. You're just the same old weakling you've ever been. So afraid you even run away from facing yourself. Why wouldn't everyone else run away from you too?”
Amidst the swarm of claws tearing at me, I feel one soft hand on mine. I grab hold tightly and flail wildly to free myself from the others as I'm roughly tugged through a gap I hadn't seen in the mirrors. I fall onto the pavement outside the cage, landing in a heap next to a panting Willow, dressed far less formally than the one who led me into this prison. “Goddamn,” she yells between breaths, looking at me with wide, worried eyes. “I’m five minutes late to pick you up, and you end up in a torment nexus? Hasn’t anybody told you not to build those!?”
“Me!?” I can’t help but yell as I shoot back up to my feet, frantically looking for more incoming mirrors. “That wasn’t my fault! Believe me, that’d be the last thing I’d put myself through.”
My friend stands up, casually brushing the gravel from her hoodie. “You do realize that the impossible world you’re in now, with evil floating mirrors and breathtakingly beautiful bunny girl, is a dream, right? You’re responsible for all of this.”
It takes an embarrassingly long moment to digest what’s been said. “I guess that makes sense,” I admit, still trying to come to terms with the fact I’m having perhaps the first lucid dream of my life. “But how is your second point proof of anything? You look the same in here as you do in the real world.”
A single eyebrow of the rabbit shoots up into the stratosphere as she leans against a street pole trying her best to look smooth. “You’re damn right I do! Certified girl of your dreams material here, literally.” She fires off a couple finger guns that have me audibly groaning as if I’d actually been shot. “Unfortunately, we can’t dwell on this incredible leap for bunny kind, because your kidnapping has really put us behind schedule here. We gotta go, vamoose, amscray, make haste ye smokeshow...”
I roll my eyes and take a step toward her before hesitating. “What… if the evil floating mirrors have a point? I was a monster when we met. My primary motivation for helping Luna was so that you wouldn’t judge me for what I’d done in my past. Every part of me is incredibly self-serving.”
Willow walks up, and I realize that, without my demonic traits, she’s taller than I am. “Were you thinking of me every second that you were helping Luna?” She asks, her usual haughtiness about such matters replaced by a calm and non-judgmental stare. “Every line recited, every practice agonized over, every conversation shared, every secret confided… was I really all that was on your mind?”
“... No.”
“Over time, you started to enjoy Luna's company. You learned about her and connected with her. In the end, seeing her second metamorphosis and the joy she shared with Claire, made you happy, right? And not just happy because you felt unburdened of guilt or absolved of wrongdoing, but happy because you genuinely wanted to see her come out on top?”
My thoughts drift to Luna. I remember the way she would look when talking about her crush, and how passionate she was about getting the wording right for the poem. After our humiliation, while I was still walking home and dreading the fallout from the video Tammy had recorded, she sent me a picture. Still in the nurse’s office, her and Claire were smiling from ear to ear. I damn near broke down on the spot. There was a hint of jealousy, of wishing I had that kind of powerful lasting connection with someone… but more than that, I was just so relieved that the person I’d come to care about was finally getting everything she ever wanted.
Blinking back a couple annoying tears, I nod in assent to Willow’s questions and the solemn expression fades from her face, replaced by her trademark smile. “See, not self-serving. Maybe you were in the beginning, but you’re learning to care about others. To reject change because you question your motivation is just a convenient and easy way to give up without trying. That’d be the most self-serving decision of them all. To confront what’s been done, and to be better, to make amends and choose the more difficult path… that’s strength. When you stop running from your past, it’ll even give the rest of us a chance to catch up to you to support you, so you don’t have to do it alone. So no more running, okay?” Willow leans in slightly, but gets distracted by an alarm going off on her phone. She checks whatever it is, and I curse technology for denying me whatever affection I could have received. “Metaphorically speaking. Right now, we actually do need to run. We're very late.”
“Late for what?”
An adorable smile blooms on the bunny as she shrugs. “What do you think? Don't you feel like you've waited long enough for this to go properly?” Willow grabs my hand and pulls me along as we both jog toward a school building on the horizon. “Haley, it’s metamorbin time!”
An involuntary snort escapes me as I grimace. “You always have to make the worst joke possible, don’t you?”
“Duh, that’s my job!” Willow cackles as she continues setting the pace for our shared sprint.
This… is really happening, isn't it? Am I getting another chance? “Do you deserve one?” A wicked hiss of a question echoes from a nearby window we pass, and I see a familiar demonic sneer staring back.
***
After pulling me along through more hallways than our school actually has, Willow deposits me in front of an ornate pair of wooden doors, leaving with a simple, “See you soon!”
Seeing as how my harried companion keeps insisting that I’m late, I waste no time in pushing through to whatever is waiting next.
Oh… joy. A library.
Rolling my eyes at the unfortunately banal turn things have taken, I walk into the stacks. It takes some time to explore the vast expanse of the larger than life library. The many shelves contain not just books but discs, scrolls, tapes, and even sandwiches in places. For a fleeting moment, I finally understand why people enjoy these musty structures… though the librarians, I find, use too much mustard.
Near the back wall, so far-flung I couldn't see it from the entrance, I find a reading nook. Seated serenely on a mushroom-shaped beanbag chair, is a serpentine woman I know all too well.
“Libby!” I call to her, delighted to see another familiar face. Her tail curls around the base of her seat and she waves. “What are you doing here?”
My ex shrugs. “Guess you don't know any caterpillar girls, so I'm filling in.”
Caterpillar… late rabbit… I nearly smack myself in the face. I'm really just getting this now!? “Shouldn't you be smoking?” I ask, now aware of the source material my mind is referencing.
Libby stretches out and bites her lower lip while moaning softly. “Aren't I?”
Laughter erupts from afar as the Cheshire Phoebe rolls into view. “Mommy's all red again!” My annoying sibling announces, heckling me all the while until she disappears again amidst the many shelves of the library.
“... Point taken. So I suppose I'm meant to have a deep heart-to-heart about who I am with you?”
The lamia sits back up and gestures at a seat near her own. “That's entirely up to you. This whole journey is for your benefit, so you should have the most say in the direction it goes.”
Following her cue, I sit on the offered lounge chair and look at the girl I once thought would hate me forever. “If I really had any control of the situation, I don't think there'd be a library involved.”
“Really? That strongly opposed to this library, even though it's where we met?”
Summoned by her words, the pleasant memory of our first moments together play in my mind. Yet hidden under the delight it brings, a bitter aftertaste lingers. “Well, look how that worked out for us.”
Libby hides a pained expression behind a neutral one, so quickly I could have missed it with a blink. “Even if it ended painfully, I still cherish the memories we made.”
“How can you say that? How can you mean it after everything we did?” My eyes focus on the colorful seat beneath Libby, as it feels too dangerous to meet her stare.
“Truth be told, it took time–time and a lot of effort, to get to a place of acceptance. At first, I thought I had to reject all of you. I tried, for a while, to kill the parts of me that still loved you. It made just enough sense for me to commit to such a drastic plan. Thinking that if I hated you… really, honestly hated you, maybe it'd burn away some of my own guilt. Obviously, that didn't work. It didn't take long to realize that the parts of me that loved you, were the very parts of me worth preserving. Love of laughter, love of simple pleasures and quiet moments, love of long nights spent dreaming about a future where we could truly be happy. My love wasn't the burden I had believed it to be… it was hope.”
A forced laugh burns through my throat. “Those are some pretty words I'd normally be relieved to hear… but this is all just a dream during metamorphosis. Libby would nev–” Looking up, my sentence drops, never to be finished. Libby is no longer perched on the cushion before me, in her place is a mirror reflecting the girl I know I used to be, only a few years older. The girl that became the demon.
“Well of course I can't speak for Libby, or Willow, or anyone else. Anything said here comes from you,” the apparition from the past states, matter-of-factly. “But if I was gonna hazard a guess as to what our wise, yet terminally myth-obsessed friend would say… it'd be that no god, or demigod, or hero of myth is universally good. Oftentimes the distinction of good and evil comes down to variations of the same story or even just conflicting translations. You've let your story be written by virulent forces, your fear, your anger, your envy… but if you take away the power they have over the loom of your fate, you can spin whatever tale you want. So, just think about it; what kind of story do you want to write?”
“Damn,” I can't help but respond in awe. “Are we sure Libby's not here feeding you lines? There's no way I would have even known that much about myths myself.”
My mirror image rolls her eyes. “The subconscious was taking notes while you were too busy staring at her dreamily while she infodumped.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
From somewhere beyond our makeshift hideaway amongst the towering shelves, a soft tone chimes. “Well, that's all for me, I guess. For you, it's time for tea.”
The room goes dark with no fanfare besides a loud electrical snap, and before I can utter the expletive dancing on the tip of my tongue, a warm brightness rises up behind me. Without having moved a muscle, the lounge chair I'm still glued to has been moved to one of many place settings around a long wooden picnic table on a sweeping expanse of dew-covered grass.
Luna is seated at the head of the table, a good twenty-five meters away from my own position, and missing the large hat I’m sure she’s supposed to be wearing. Next to her, chugging soda straight out of her own two-liter bottle, is Willow once more. The two are caught up in what appears to be a heated argument of some kind, a conflict punctuated by growls from the wolf woman, and sharp laughter from the bunny. Not able to participate, or even eavesdrop properly from this distance, I stand up and move to the seat next to Willow.
“They have you pulling double duty in my head?” I state flatly during a short lull in conversation, prompting Willow to look over at me and grin.
“Just goes to show how much you think of me.” I really saw the rake on the ground and walked right into it there, didn’t I? “Actually, it’s because of badass bunny babe budget bungles. We literally couldn’t afford another adorable rabbit girl, so I’ve been typecast.” Willow’s face scrunches up to perfectly replicate the pensive emoji, to the point I think her features actually flatten out to two dimensions for a moment. Her cartoonish powers are growing…
“Ugh, can you please stop with the alliteration already!? You’re alliterally driving me crazy!” Luna groans, claws pulling at her own face as she looks toward the sky, unaware that no higher power can stop Willow from being a little shit sometimes.
Not wanting to poke the wolf shaped bear, I lean in close to Willow and whisper. “What’s her deal, I get you’re supposed to be the March Hare now, but Luna isn’t acting whimsically at all… and she doesn’t even have a hat!” I don’t know why the hat has become such a big sticking point for me, but if I get one chance in my life to live through a Wonderland excursion, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a bit of accuracy.
Willow chuckles lightly, and unsubtly speaks loudly enough for even Luna to hear. “Pretty sure Luna got the role for this zone because the Mad Hatter speaks obtusely and you two did that poetry thing together. However, the role she actually took was the Mad Hater, because she’s such a gwumpy widdle pubby, yes she is! Yes she is!”
The wolf woman snarls, and looks to me for help. “If she doesn’t stop, I’m going to bite her.”
“Oh, spicy!” Willow remarks, hitting Luna with an eyebrow wiggle I’m all too familiar with.
Not wanting to see Willow actually get mauled in a way she (probably) wouldn’t enjoy, I try to change the subject. “Okay, I get you’re not a hatter, and Willow’s not a hare, but why are you both drinking soda instead of tea?”
Ceasing her brow shimmying long enough to smile brighter than a kid on Christmas, Willow hops out of her chair, sits on Luna’s armrest and gestures at the two of them. “Haley, don’t you think the two of us have had enough T for one lifetime?”
Counter to her character in this farce, Luna snorts out a laugh. Willow’s face lights up at the tacit compliment, and Luna clears her throat. “W–What? Ninety percent of the time she’s just annoying… but that was funny.”
“Fuck yeah!” Willow cries happily, hopping from her perch and doing an entire victory lap around the table. At some point during the spectacle, Libby arrives and takes a seat at the other head of the table. She waves at me with a smirk and Willow joins her, no doubt to retell the joke she’s so proud of now.
This change in seating arrangement leaves Luna and I alone and in an awkward silence reminiscent of the early days of our collaboration. “… You’re not expecting me to recite poetry, right?”
This stray comment, or maybe it’s a plea, makes me laugh. “I wasn’t, but now that you’ve brought it up, absolutely. Yes.”
Luna looks ready to turn her fangs on me for a moment before her entire expression softens and her tail starts slowly wagging behind her. I follow her line of sight back to the other end of the table, where her friend, Claire, is taking a seat with Libby and Willow. “You know what, I think I have one in the tank. If you laugh at me, you’re dead.” The wolf woman takes a beat for herself, together her words before speaking again.
“Does the sun know she shines?
It’s not a question for you or I.
We both see her loving rays,
Her warmth and splendor every day.
But from her post up in the sky,
Watching us with caring eyes,
Does she get that it’s her gaze
That brings a smile to my face?
If everything she can perceive,
Is always bathed with care she weaves,
Does she know about the night,
Or how cold I grow without her light?
Does she know the gift she bares,
Her golden shield against despair?
Or maybe as she sits alone,
Staring from her gilded throne,
She envies stars so far away,
Wishing she could light the way.
Unaware all the while,
In cold dark space where she’s exiled,
That every world within her reach,
Chants her name with reverent speech.
It’s just not fair for one so gold,
To live a life so unconsoled.
If I could make an earnest wish,
One that may sound quite foolish,
I’d ask for such a simple boon,
That somehow I become a moon.
So that her light I might reflect,
And with it joy will resurrect.
For when she sees her light in me,
She’ll smile softly with boundless glee.”
By the time Luna finishes, her face is resting on her palms as she just stares across the too long table at Claire, and despite the earlier warning, I can’t help but snicker. The reaction is immediate as the wolf’s eyes squint into a glare and turn to me. “No, I’m not laughing at the poem, I swear! I’m laughing at you,” I realize a beat too late how that sounds and by then, Luna is already sitting up at full height, looking down on me like she’s ready to make good on her threat. “I just mean… you obviously have it bad for her. Your friend, I mean. It’s cute!”
A merciless leg swiftly kicks my shin under the table as Luna turns away, embarrassed. “Shut up,” she says, leaving any additional threats unspoken. When she finally calms down, and her cheeks are noticeably less rosy, she looks back at the group of girls sitting across from us. “You and I aren’t very bright. We’ve both been to really dark places, and we often don’t appreciate what we have until it’s too late. The cold dark is familiar and safe, and while you indulge in its shelter you don’t need to actually see all the problems around you. It’s almost impossible to accept that there are just some people who are the opposite; Bright, warm, life giving, and goddamn blindingly beautiful. They’re the kind of miraculously incandescent person who changes you just by being present. Then maybe one day, if we’re lucky, we’ll ignite and burn as brightly as them. Until then, I think it’s okay to borrow their light and try to learn as much as we’re able.”
“You’re right,” I say, eyes drifting back toward Willow and Libby. “But how am I supposed to know who my sun is?”
A loud thud draws my attention back to Luna, whose head has unceremoniously struck the table with great enough force to knock over her now empty glass. “Are you dumb? Don’t answer that, you’ll get it wrong. Are you fucking kidding me!?”
“What? You used a whole sun metaphor thing… there’s only one sun–”
“The sun’s just a star that showed up for work! Maybe you got a poly Tatooine situation going on, I don't know. I just nailed my part in this whole sequence, don’t you ruin this for me!”
Smirking in a way a certain bunny would be proud, I casually shrug. “Wow, so Claire’s just someone who showed up. Kind of undercuts your whole spiel, huh?”
Luna makes a slurry of noises that confirm her inability to properly respond to what I’ve just said before fully growling. “Nope, that’s it. I’m done. Guards!”
Not a second after Luna’s shout, a gigantic hand lands on my shoulder and spins me around. Xander and Tamara are right here, smiling and waving while wearing ridiculous red armor. “Hey Haley!” Tamara excitedly chirps as Xan pulls his hand off of me and continues pulling it back as if he’s winding up for something. “Sorry about this,” she apologizes, grimacing as the aforementioned bear hand starts moving and–
***
My ears ring and I slowly try to right myself. Whatever surface I’m on is too solid to be comfortable, and too elevated to be the ground. I blink a myriad of colors from my vision and groan as reality returns and I find myself looking down at a varnished wooden bench. My back straightens with great effort and I find an empty courtroom. No judge, no jury, thank goodness no executioner… just me, myself, and I.
“Mommy, are you ready for the custody hearing?” Phoebe asks, appearing next to me on the bench. Still reeling from Xander’s fist, it takes a moment to realize what she’s just said.
“Custody? No, that… there shouldn’t… what?” I look around again and the rest of the room remains lifeless, but slightly less empty than before. Two full length mirrors have materialized on either side of the judge’s stand. From across the room, near the back of the gallery, both mirrors look identical, but if I know one thing about this place and mirrors, it's that fuckery is about to ensue.
“If you’re not careful, you’ll lose yourself here.”
Looking back down at my sister, I see an uncharacteristically somber expression. “What do you mean?”
Phoebe reaches out and takes my hand. “I don’t know. This is your court. You’re in charge here… but I think the people in the glass want you to pick something. They said it’s important. They said if you pick wrong, you’ll be lost.” She tries to smile reassuringly, but is obviously frightened herself. “So, we’ll do the buddy system. My school does it and nobody gets lost, except that one time.”
Phoebe’s hand in mine, I do feel somewhat more ready for whatever lays ahead. The two of us stand up, and slowly approach the mirrors. Upon each surface appears a version of me. To the left is the me that took Helena’s features, a demon smirking with a sickening self-satisfaction. To the right is the plain old human I remember being when I met Libby, she also looks quite confident as both parties size me up. “Alright, if you both are just gonna stand there giving me the bedroom eyes, how am I supposed to get how this works?”
The demon shrugs. “Well, forgive us for assuming you were bright enough to figure this out on your own. This is the end of the line, last stop on the ol’ noggin tour. However, getting back to your world is just about impossible without a sponsor. After all, a person can’t truly exist without a reflection… so, pick. Keep the strength, the looks, and the swagger you’re used to… or be lame and choose the softy.”
My past self glares daggers at her counterpart before facing me again. “She’s not wrong, that’s kind of all there is to it. Pick one of us to get you home, and also, to represent your future.”
Looking down, I see Phoebe fidgeting a bit. “Don’t worry, I know exactly what to do here.” I smile at my sister to reassure her and let go of her hand. “But you may want to step back a bit.” For a moment, she looks ready to argue a desire to stay near me, but before putting voice to her discomfort, she listens and retreats.
“Aww, what a cute little moment,” the demon teases. “Makes–” Before she can get her next words out, I reach over to the judge’s stand where a conveniently placed gavel rests. In one swift motion, I strike the mirror shattering it into a rain of jagged shards that scatter across the floor like a tide.
There’s dead silence from the other mirror as she stares, slack-jawed at what used to be her competition. “I mean, I’m not surprised, but wow. That was a much easier choice than I think we were expecting, but I know you’ve made the right decision picking me.”
“I… haven’t?” The words come out choppy and unsure. “I wish I could, but that would be almost as big a mistake as picking her,” I say, gesturing vaguely to the pile formerly known as a mirror. “She was the present I hate, choosing her would be stagnation. But you…” My eyes meet my former self’s. “You’re the past I’ve missed. The woman I wish I had remained. But that just means that choosing you, would be regression. Neither option leads to the future. At least, neither leads to the future I need.”
“Without a sponsor, a reflection of your own–”
“She already said it,” I say, cutting off her argument. “Without a sponsor, getting back is just about impossible. Which means there is a chance.” Cued by my words, the courtroom doors swing open, revealing a dark cavernous path. “See, that doesn’t look so bad.” Once again, as if a vengeful theater tech is seated at a switchboard just waiting for me to say things, my words seem to cause a direct reaction. From the depths of the cave a rumbling roar shakes the courthouse as a warm fiery glow illuminates the path for just a moment. “Alright, it’s bad… but I’m guessing it’s the only way besides succumbing to you.”
A heavy sigh escapes from my past self who shakes her head. “Fine. It’s your funeral, Haley. But it’s dangerous to go alone… take this.” Without my violent intervention, the other mirror falls to pieces on its own. However, instead of the shards resting on the floor, they shift and merge with the other mirror’s pieces, forming a greatsword made of glass.
Picking up the weapon, I can’t help but feel a bit underwhelmed. “What am I supposed to do with a sword that’s just going to break!? Come on, even Stoat Pilgrim got a real buster sword with the power of understanding…” As if to punish me for my lack of faith in it, the glass sword’s handle cuts my hand, just a little, enough to draw a dot of blood and a minor grunt of discomfort.
Turning around, I don’t see my sister, or anybody else. All that remains is the empty courtroom and the ominous entrance to a cave. After standing in the room for longer than I’d like to admit, praying to any power out there that a less foreboding door could magically pop open, I grimly accept that one way or another, the sweltering pit is the end to my journey. Making peace with my fear, I take the first steps forward.
Between the bellowing cries of whatever lurks within, the entire cave reverberates with the low growl of breaths taken. It's almost as if the whole tunnel itself is alive. Scattered torches light my way as the craggy stone walls shift into something darker and more solid. Soon, the flames which once cast nothing but faint light across mono-colored surfaces now reflect across walls made of volcanic glass. The path ahead grows brighter but as I step forward, each glance at a wall carries a reflection of myself, not from the present but the past.
One wall depicts me pinning Willow against a wall, no doubt from the day we met. Another jagged edge on the swords handle nicks a finger and I adjust it to keep from harming myself further. Done with reliving this particular moment, I round a corner. On the next wall, I see myself roaring into my phone, Libby having already hung up after she ended things with me. Phoebe pops her head in and I scream at her to leave. I cried, Phoebe cried, and I spent the next week apologizing constantly but never quite forgiving myself. My palm stings as a deeper cut nearly makes me drop my one weapon in what has to be a prelude to a boss battle. My grip tightens to keep the sword in my hand.
The tunnel shrinks, from a larger passage to one barely large enough for me to walk through without crouching. I’m not sure how much further I need to travel to reach the end, but the images on the mirror become more and more hard to witness. Moments of profound cruelty, from before Libby and I split and after, all leading up to a solid wall in front of me and the image of Luna and Claire in a classroom. I try to turn away, but every wall reflects the same scene. As it begins to play out like I know it will, more splintering glass shards puncture my palm all over as I grasp the handle with my other hand as well, trying to keep my weapon steady even through the intense pain. I turn fully around, but every side of the cavern is solid and covered in the vile moment I ruined someone’s life and I wrench my eyes shut to try to escape.
“You shouldn't be here.” A deep voice shakes the entire world around me as I struggle to keep my footing. “Leave.”
The command is delivered with such unwavering finality, I struggle to answer for a moment. “I always hate disagreeing with booming voices in nightmare factories, but I'm afraid I'm right where I should be.” My eyes dare to peek open, still unwilling to take in any more blasts from the past, but instead I’m faced with a towering monstrosity. The creature’s flesh is a pallid gray, only broken up by interspersed chipped scarlet scales that look more like scabbed wounds than a natural occurrence. It’s thin sinewy arms are punctuated by massive claws, sharpened to a lustrous shine while it’s folded wings are a mess of ripped leathery membranes between fetid decaying spines. “... What are you?”
Without an answer, the creature strikes the ground in front of me, ripping through the obsidian floor with her claws as if it were cardboard. From deep in her belly, a warm orange glow begins trailing up her neck until her head points toward the ceiling of the sprawling chamber the once claustrophobic tunnel has become. From her jagged maw erupts a blast of fire that fully illuminates the room for a fleeting moment before dying out. As the oppressive light and suffocating heat of her breath fills the room, I notice all of my friends and family crowded behind her, huddling against the back wall away from the beast. “I told you to leave.”
Fighting every treacherous instinct in me to run and not be melted into a greasy human soup, I tighten my grip on the now fully jagged and unforgiving handle of the sword. The pain is nearly blinding as I grit my teeth, not backing down from the monster keeping my friends captive. “Hell of a way to introduce yourself… but I’m not leaving without everyone.” Seizing the initiative, I swing the glass blade in a wild arc, slicing a deep wound into the monster’s arm, prompting its appendage to retreat as it breathes out a pained hiss. Recognition dawns in my mind as I realize what scene I’m living out, and I manage to smile widely despite my fear. “Snicker-Snack, is that right? I’m surprised the sword didn’t make the sound effect itself here!”
The hulking form of my enemy shrinks backward as I continue advancing slowly. In the beast’s eyes, I see genuine fear, yet it remains planted in my path, keeping me from everyone I care about. “Get away from them! Stay back!”
“Never!” I swing the blade once more, feeling the handle biting even deeper into my own flesh as it severs one of the monster’s wings that had moved in to guard its neck. The roar of anguish from the Jabberwock shakes the whole cavern.
My feet continue carrying me forward, eager to press my advantage. Before I can cleave another chunk from the creature, Willow dashes between us and throws her arms out, creating a barricade. “Stop! Leave her alone!” To say that I’m confused is an understatement. The shock sends me staggering back a step, my momentum broken. “Don’t hurt her anymore… you… you monster.”
An ache far worse than my mangled hands could ever match shoots through my chest at that word. “Willow? Why–”
The self-pitying question dies in my throat as Libby joins her between me and the Jabberwock. “Haven’t you done enough? Just, stop!”
A strangled noise somewhere between a whimper and a word warbles in my throat as my lips try to form a shape that’d lend itself to coherency. As I try to recover from the shock, the clawed hands of the Jabberwock gently sweep in, carefully moving Willow and Libby behind it once more. “You… you’re protecting them?”
Through gritted teeth, the towering beast snorts a plume of smoke, obviously pained, but still focused on what I’m realizing is her purpose. “Yes. From you.”
Even in the deep shadows behind the Jabberwock, I can see the frightened faces of Willow, Libby, and even Phoebe. Somehow, they seem more at ease being directly behind the massive beast, but are all staring daggers right at me. “I wouldn’t hurt them,” I plead, less for the benefit of the Jabberwock, and more to be heard by the people I wish would stop glaring at me. My eyes sweep up to meet the glowing, fiery eyes of my adversary. “We don’t have to fight.”
With a dismissive huff, a tail lashes out from behind the Jabberwock, forcing me to retreat. “You hold onto that weapon so tightly, even as it tears you apart. How can I trust you?”
“The sword?” I ask, my eyes flicking down to the large weapon for a split second before looking back up into the eyes of the creature. Somehow, this impractical thing in my grasp that I initially insulted has become my sole source for comfort in this impossible confrontation. “I need it. I just wanted to protect them, and myself. How am I supposed to let go when I’m standing in a monster’s den?”
Calling the Jabberwock a monster, I expect to be met with fury, or indignation. Instead, the beast laughs. “Yes, the Jabberwocky poem. Nonsense that ends as it begins, a perpetual cycle. A monster is slain, but a monster remains.” The long neck of the Jabberwock cranes close, bringing her face down to my eye level. “But do you see the real monster in the poem?” The Jabberwock looks down at my sword, and my eyes follow along. At some point, the blood from my lacerated hands has stained the once pristine glass surface, dyeing the blade and all it reflects in a deep crimson hue. Along the surface of the sword, I catch my reflection, and even without the horns or the tail, all I can see staring back at me is the demon I swore I’d never be again. “The Jabberwock is feared. It has jaws that bite.” She opens her mouth and snaps it shut with a dramatic flair. “Claws that catch.” To my side, one of her arms comes down and plants itself in the floor with a sharp crunch. “But it does nothing but march on with flaming eyes before being slain by the so-called hero with a vorpal blade.”
“But–”
“You’ve already realized your friends are in no danger, but you still haven’t dropped the sword.”
Looking past the sneering face in front of me, I catch sight of the people closest to me once more, all looking so disgusted in me. My voice trembles as much as my hands as I take another shaky step backwards. “Th–they need me.”
“Do they?”
“Yes!” I cry out, feeling a treacherous tear free itself from my eye. “I… I’m strong. I can protect them, and–” Sinking to my knees, I drop all pretense as a deep sob wrenches free from my gut. “I need them.” The Jabberwock goes still and silent, as if waiting, its expression somehow softer than before. “I need them. I need them. I just… I…”
“But do they need you?”
Something among the pain, the fatigue, and my waning conviction, finally has my grip on the sword slip, and I can’t even bring myself to pretend like I want to catch it before it collides with the ground, shattering instantly and covering the floor with bright, twinkling shards of jagged relief. “I’m not smart like Libby. I’m not warm like Willow. I’m not innocent like Phoebe. Hell, I’m not even good at expressing myself like Luna. Without strength… what good am I to them?”
A much softer voice than I’m used to comes from the Jabberwock’s maw as they lean in closer. “You don’t need to be needed.”
“I do.”
“Doesn’t it mean more if they don’t need you, but still want you?”
Doubling over both to hide my face and to succumb to the bone deep exhaustion I feel pressing down on my shoulders, I shake my head frantically. “No… No! How could they? I’m selfish, and craven. I cause cruel events and fling hope beyond the horizon. All I know how to do is collapse in on myself and take, and take, and take, drawing others in and crushing them. I am the end point of everything good and the origin of emptiness. You think they could want me!?” The final questions tears from me in a higher more desperate pitch than I’ve ever allowed myself to reach before as my breaths come in wild and painful gasps, never quite settling right in my lungs.
“I do.” The answer given is so simple it’s almost insulting. “I truly believe they do. Or maybe, I just hope they do.”
“Why would you–” As I look up, I see that the beast is no longer in front of me as it had been a moment prior. Yes, it’s face still stares back at me, but right before me is another obsidian wall, and the Jabberwock moves slowly, mirroring everything I do. “Oh…” Phoebe, Libby, and Willow are no longer in the chamber, and I realize once again that it’s only me present as I stare down my new reflection.
“Well, at least it makes sense why you look so disgusting compared to the rest of this dream. I treated you like a monster for so damn long, of course you went and became one.” It’s odd seeing the monster which only moments ago spoke in a booming voice of its own, now perfectly matching its lips with my own. It’s so jarring it actually gets me to laugh for a fleeting second of morbid amusement. “Well, according to the oversized after-school special I’ve just put myself through, I can’t run from you anymore… and I’m not allowed to hate you, apparently.” As I speak, the image in the obsidian seems to shrink, little by little, until the size of my reflection actually stand only slightly taller than I would if I could make it back to my feet.
I pause and sigh heavily.
“I’m not ready to love you though… not yet. I get that’s not really healthy to say, but I’d rather be honest than bullshit myself even more. But even if I can’t love myself yet… I can still care for myself more than I have been.”
Pulling myself up, I stand nearly face to face with my reflection as it’s skin slowly regains a more natural color and the wings behind it mend.
“I've hurt people… even some people I really care about. I might always hate the parts of me capable of doing that. But, I know it's not all there is to me. The jaws and claws were the headline… but I also have a fire in me.”
My reflections shape begins to shift, the wild proportions of her limbs evening out to be more human as scales begin growing back in on her arms and legs.
“And even if I can’t really see my worth yet, I can be thankful for the people in my life that do. I can work on myself, and I can be better, and one day, maybe I’ll even be able to really burn, like the suns in my life.”
The changes in my reflection slow to a crawl as it finally fully takes a proper form, looking like an odd mixture of past and present. My human face is barely changed, with some scales trailing up from my neck but fading before my jaw, and two smaller horns protruding from my forehead. My arms and legs have maintained a deep red color, but now with the texture of plated scales leading to vicious obsidian claws. My wings, likewise, are largely unchanged aside from a slightly new shape and the talons at their zenith. The only real original feature of my new form seems to be a much larger tail that mercifully no longer ends with a spade.
Different, but still me… and free from her.
“I am horrifically imperfect. I’m never going to be perfect. But I know that if I really try, I can be someone I’m proud of… someday.”
***
With a miserable groan, I wake up from restless slumber, clumsily rubbing my eyes with much rougher fingers than I remember having before passing out. The sky outside my window is dark, and my friends are obviously long gone. Rolling out of bed, I stagger over to my re-covered mirror and pull off the sheet once more. Staring back is my new reflection. No twisted image of Helena, no echo of a past I abandoned… just, me. I wish that this new version of me could have hit the ground running with a clean slate and none of the history that comes with inheriting my name and my past. Unfortunately, the world is an incredibly fair place sometimes, and we need to deal with the shit storms we’ve created.
I can’t ever be the blameless girl Libby met in the library again, and I refuse to ever be the horrid woman Willow met in the hallway again. I suppose, the most exciting part of all of this, is that the qualities of this version of me are still completely up in the air, free for me to define and set as I please. Free to hope for better and to work towards that end. Free to dream of that fabled and golden…
“Someday.”