Year One Creative Writing by Sophie Holmes

This is my piece for our workshop on December 1st.
It is a sequel to the piece I posted before 'This Isn't Right' and is a first draft.
I am rubbish with titles and haven't been able to think of one for this piece. If anyone has any suggestions, I'm open to them! Just drop me a message on facebook or tell me in person, thanks!



I remember breaking the mirror, feeling nothing as cracks danced across its silver surface. I remember feeling blood drip down my arm, the lukewarm liquid tickling my skin. I remember falling to the floor, an eerie emptiness filling my mind.

Then I woke up.

I was in my bedroom, the familiarity of the lilac walls offering me comfort in my time of uncertainty. Looking around, I let my eyes linger on photographs taped to the wall, most of them either falling off or sitting askew. In every single one, I wore a fake smile but you'd have to look pretty hard to realise. I perfected the art of pretend happiness. Or maybe everyone just went along with it. 

It was easier that way. 

Everything is easier when you don't accept the truth, when you swallow the lies fed to you. That's why I had my back to the mirror. I didn't want to accept my truth, my fate.

So I remained in my room, sitting with my legs crossed humming my favourite song. I was calm, no negative thoughts were invading my mind, nothing was sending me into a spiral of despair. You might even go as far as to say I was content.

Content with what, I couldn't tell you. I found it strange myself, I doubt many people feel calm and content ten minutes after trying to kill themselves. But I was content.

I closed my eyes and let my mind wander. Images burst into my head and leave almost as quickly as they came. The broken mirror was a regular visitor. The slightly bloodied frame and broken glass flickering on and off like a broken lamp. The spider web of cracks reminding me of my own broken mind, my weakness. But it wasn't just my mind that was broken.

A small gasp jolts me back to reality, my eyes snap open and I look up at the door. A pair of blue eyes are peering into my room, almost staring right through me. The door is suddenly thrown open to the widest it will go, slamming into the wall. Something isn't quite right but all I can seem to think of is how the copper handle will leave a crack in my perfect lilac wall.

Those blue eyes, the ones that hold the world, are still staring through me, the pupils widening in fear.

Why are you scared blue eyes?

Almost answering my question, a scream explodes in the room. 

Oh blue eyes, what's wrong? Let me help you.

I reach out to the figure that stands before me but my hand falls through them. My. Hand. Falls. Through. Them.

As hard as I try to deny it, reality hits me hard.

I turn to face the mirror, searching for answers. 

I can see my reflection, sitting cross-legged on the floor, just like me. 

I can see blue eyes reflected in the mirror, mouth wide open, still screaming.

I can see a lifeless body reflected in the mirror. No. I refuse to believe it.

I'm the lifeless body.

I'm dead.

I understand why those beautiful blue eyes are screaming now. I understand their pain. What I don't understand is why they are so pained. After all the pain I caused them, after everything I did, they should be glad I'm dead. I am.

I broke the mirror. Then I broke myself.

Now I can't break anything again. I can't hurt anyone anymore.

You'll understand one day blue eyes, I know you will.