Hope

When a girl finds that her reflection has been stolen and replaced with a girl named Hope, she'll soon discover what true friendship is.

When I look in the mirror, I always see a girl looking back at me. She has long brown hair, naturally straight. Her eyes are the same shade of light brown as her hair. Each day, the circles under her eyes continue to darken. She looks as though she hasn’t slept in days. Today when I look in the mirror, I see that the girl has once again spent hours trying to live up to other people’s expectations. It is easy to tell from the bags under her eyes that she stayed up too late, probably keeping Snapstreaks and scrolling through Instagram. On top of that, she woke up thirty minutes earlier than usual. Straight hair was boring, wavy hair was not. She had braided her hair the night before, and she had woken up early to make sure she had time to arrange her waves perfectly. Various anti-frizz sprays and curl-defining gels went into her hair. Yes, it suited her nicely, but the lack of sleep did not. 

After she had sure that every strand of hair was placed perfectly, she had moved on to her outfit. Should she wear jeans, or a dress? She had pulled numerous articles of clothing out from her closet. She tried on a red lace dress, but decided against it. The dress was a little short, and the last thing she needed was people calling her a w***e. After sending multiple pictures of various outfits to her friends, she decided on a light blue t-shirt with black leggings. She had dug through her closet and found a pair of sandals that were the exact same shade of blue as her shirt. 

Then came her makeup. A neutral shade of eyeshadow and black mascara. Simple enough. I studied this girl in the mirror. Where did she go when I wasn’t looking at her? All of her movements happened at the same time as mine, and all of our movements were the same. Was she lost without me? Did she stand behind the glass and wait for me to return? Or was she able to move freely without me?

Most people say they look in the mirror and see their reflection. They see themselves. But not me. The girl I see looks so helpless and lost. I’ve seen her continue to fall deeper into the arms of depression. I’ve watched her fall apart over the last 3 years. When I was younger, I always saw myself. It was most definitely my reflection. I was pretty, healthy, and held myself with confidence. 

One day, I came home from school and looked in the mirror. I was halfway through seventh grade. That was the day I no longer saw myself, but instead, I saw this girl who looked lost and helpless. My image had been replaced with a girl who had the same hair as me, and the same eyes, but she was different. My reflection had always showed a girl who was a little chubby, but not necessarily fat. My reflection always showed passion in my eyes, and confidence in everything I did. 

This girl was different. We had similarities, but there was no way that the girl in the mirror was me. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days. She looked like a skeleton with skin. No muscles or fat, just bone. Her eyes had an empty look that made her seem lost. My reflection had gone missing. Where was the beautiful girl that I used to see staring back at me? She was gone, and in her place was a girl that I was afraid to look at. She wasn’t me, yet she stood where my reflection once had. 

For the first few months, I would look in the mirror any chance I got. It turns out she wasn’t just in my mirror. She was in all of them. In the school bathroom, in the pictures I took, in the windows. She had replaced me. I was dying to know what I looked like to the people around me. I could never see what I looked like to anybody else because this girl never left. I was afraid to look at her too long. She was not only creepy looking, with her skeleton-like figure and the bags under her eyes, but it was sad. This girl looked helpless and lost. The look in her eyes was so heartbreaking, that I couldn’t help but stare. After a few moments, the feelings would overwhelm me, and I had to look away. Why was this girl here? If she was looking for help, then she had most certainly stolen the wrong reflection. She was way past the point of being helped. 

After a few months, I was no longer afraid of the girl; I felt sorry for her. One day, I decided to talk to the girl. I sat down in front of my mirror and spoke to her. 

“Hello,” I said to the girl. “How are you feeling today?” The girl simply stared at me. She mouthed the words I said at the exact time that I said them. My eyes started to fill with tears. Was this girl so lost that she didn't even know what to say? Was she so far gone that she couldn't even find her own voice, or form her own opinion? Why wouldn't she talk to me? Then I heard it. 

“I'm ok, how are you?” Said a small voice in my head. It sounded weak and lonely, reflecting this girls image exactly. 

“I'm alright, for the most part.” I replied. It felt right to talk to this girl. I didn't know why, but it did. “What happened to me?” I whispered. 

The girl looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“What happened to me? Why are you here?”

“I don't understand.”

It felt wrong to try and force my problems onto this girl. Why should I try and explain to her something that she would never understand. 

“So what did you do in school today?” I asked the girl. 

“I don't go to school,” she whispered. 

“But I've seen you there before.” I countered. “In my reflection.”

“Exactly. In your reflection. I sit around and wait for you on the other side of the mirror.”

“Do you have any friends?”

“Yes. Only one, though.”

“What's her name?”

There was a pause. I waited for what felt like forever for her to answer. Then a few minutes later, her voice was heard softly in my head, saying “It's you.”

Oh, I thought to myself. Of course it's me. 

Well of course it's you. We are friends, aren't we? Her voice said. 

She could hear my thoughts. I was grateful. This way, I could talk to her without people calling me crazy. 

Yes, I guess we are. It felt nice to know that I had a friend who would always be with me; as long as there was a mirror, I had a friend. 

 The months passed, and pretty soon, it was summer time. School had just gotten out, and Hope and I hadn’t really had any meaningful conversations. Besides that first time we talked, our conversations never went any deeper than the typical “Hello, how was your day?” conversations. It’s not that I didn’t want to have a meaningful conversation, it’s just that we never had the time to talk. My family never let me spend too much time in my room. I was forced to stay downstairs and study, even when I had no homework. But not anymore. Now it was summer! My parents both left at about 6 in the morning for work, and didn’t come home until about 3 in the afternoon. 

On the first morning of summer vacation, I woke up at 6:30, eager to finally talk to Hope. I rolled out of bed and onto the floor. Despite the early hour, I had to get all of the time I could get to talk to Hope. Maybe if I talked to her, she wouldn’t feel lonely anymore, and my reflection could come back. 

As I sat down in front of my mirror, I noticed that, as usual, Hope had the same polka dot pajama pants as me. Not just that, but she had the same tangled hair, and the same black tank top. I had to remind myself that Hope was not me; I was not Hope. Hope was dangerously skinny, pale, had bags under her eyes, and looked lost. I’ve spotted cuts on her arm many times, but never had the courage to ask about it. I didn’t know what I looked like anymore, since I could no longer see past Hope, but I knew that there was no way that I looked like that.

Hello, Hope’s voice rang through my head clearly. 

Good morning, I responded. How did you sleep?

Very nicely, she answered. And you?

I also slept very nicely.

She paused. What are you thinking about? She spoke cautiously.

You can hear my thoughts. You know exactly what I’m thinking about.

I could hear her sigh, but in the mirror, she made no movement at all. Yes, I am lonely. I could hear her voice crack. I spend my days alone. Nobody talks to me except for you. I could see a tear run down her cheek, and I was shocked. She had finally done something different from me. It wasn’t until the tears dripped off of my chin that I realized she was crying because I was crying too. She wiped her eyes as I did, and then continued.

I stopped eating because people kept calling me chubby. I didn’t want to be fat or chubby anymore, so I stopped eating. 

I was shocked. Hope, I begged. Please, please start eating again.

I can’t, she whispered. I won’t. If I eat, I get fat, and I just can’t do that. I can’t. She paused for a minute. You can’t tell me to start eating. That’s hypocritical. 

I was shocked. What are you talking about?

You never eat either! She accused.

“Yes I do!” I yelled aloud.

Quiet! Hope hissed. Your sister is still asleep!

Sorry. But I do eat, everyday!

No you don’t. I can see you during all of your meals. I’m reflected on the windows of the cafeteria and on the windows in your dining room. You get breakfast and lunch at school but don’t eat it. At dinner, you take the smallest amount possible and force yourself to eat it. Then I watch you from the mirror in your room as you do sit ups, jumping jacks, and push ups so that you won’t gain weight. 

I thought long and hard about what she said. Wait. You do everything I do. So… you don’t eat… because I don’t…? 

She didn’t say anything.

Hope, you don’t have to do what I do.

Yes, she whispered. I do.

Why? I asked. 

I’m just a reflection. I can only do what you do.

“Whose reflection?” I wonder aloud. Suddenly, I hear my sister, Liv, stomping down the hallway. She bursts into my room without even knocking. “What do you think you’re doing?” Liv yells. “It’s 7 o’clock in the morning, on the first day of summer vacation, and you think it’s a good idea to sit and scream at your reflection?” 

I scowled at her. “She’s not my reflection.” I mutter. “She’s my friend. Her name is Hope. Hope, say hi.”

She can’t hear me you idiot.

“What is wrong with you? Go back to bed!” My sister reaches for my arms and tries to pull me up, but I pull away. 

“No! Leave. Me. Alone!” I throw my arm at her and end up whacking her leg. Unfortunately, this causes little damage, and she reaches down and grabs ahold of my legs. Once she has a firm grip, she starts dragging me across the room. I keep flailing around, trying to loosen her grip and get away. “Go to bed!” she yells. The tears that come can no longer be held back. I’ve held in my tears for far too long. 

“STOP!” I scream. I choke on my own words and start sobbing. “I just want to talk to Hope! Please!” I stop struggling and lay on the ground, eyes shut, heart aching. I lay there and let out a few choked sobs that couldn’t be contained. Then I catch my breath, but only long enough to whisper “Please.” one more time. All of my strength is lost, and my legs grow heavy in her arms. Liv gently lowers my legs onto the ground and sits beside me. 

“What’s going on?” she whispered. I didn’t even know. I continued to choke on air as my cries came out in ugly, heaving sobs. My shoulders shook with every cry, and stomach began to ache. After watching me for a few moments, my sister reached out and began to gently stroke my hair. “Please talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” she pleaded. 

I took a few minutes to pull myself together long enough to string some words into some sentences. “I was talking to Hope.” I whispered. 

“Sweetie,” Liv started in a comforting way. “Who is Hope?”

“Hope is the girl in the mirror.” My voice cracks as I speak.

“I thought you were the person in the mirror.” 

“That can’t be me.” I whimper. “I don’t look like that. I’m healthy, strong, and I don’t look lost like Hope does. Hope needs me.” I pause. “I’m all she has left.”

Liv takes a minute to consider what I’ve said. “Think about this for a minute.” After about ten minutes of silence, Liv says “Ok, now tell me again, who is Hope.”

I know the truth deep down in my heart, but I know I can’t say it. I can’t bring myself to say them. So I say the truth that is still painful, yet less heartbreaking to say. “Hope is the girl in the mirror,” I start. “I need Hope. She’s all I have left.” My voice breaks, and silent tears start running down my face. 

“And why is that?” Liv asks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer.

“Because… because nobody else ever talks to me. All of my friends left me when they realized I was different, and now nobody ever talks to me.” My tears come faster, but now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “I’m loud, and talkative, and I have a hard time in school. My life is like train-wreck and they didn’t want to know about my problems, they didn’t want the burden of having to help me, so they left.” 

I pause to catch my breath. I start to feel nauseous, but I know that if I stop now, I’ll never be able to finish what I have to say. “And you never noticed. You thought I was just an overdramatic eighth grade girl, and you’re a sophomore, so you have bigger problems to worry about. And mom and dad are never home, and when they are, they are doing more work. They try to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads, so nobody noticed when I began to drown in my own reality. I stopped participating in class, and I started to fail. But nobody asked why my A’s went to C’s, they just yelled at me for it. Nobody asked why I stopped asking to use the phone. I had no one to call. Nobody asked why I had started wearing long sleeve shirts and jeans in the middle of the summer. Nobody noticed that I never left my room. Nobody was here to tell me I was worth it. Nobody was here to tell me that I was actually good at anything. I felt like a failure. I felt as though I would never do anything right. All I wanted was an escape. I wanted to be free. Yet nobody noticed. All I really wanted to do was die. And if I had? Nobody would have probably noticed.”

I was talking faster and faster, one word coming out right on top of the next. Liv sat there at a loss for words. She didn’t know what to say. I just lied on the floor and cried. Finally, she said “I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” I screamed at her. “It’s too late for apologies.”  

She sat there again, surprised by my response. “You realize I have to tell Mom and Dad now, right.”

“Go right ahead. Like they’d care.”

Liv stared at me for a second, and then stood up to go. “I’m always here, no matter what. I promise.”

I thought about her words and about the truth behind them. I couldn’t bear the thought of putting my trust into someone and having them hurt me again. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to truly trust someone again. It would hurt too much. I turned my head toward Liv and said, “Fat chance.” and with that, she was gone. 

As promised, Liv told our parents; as predicted, they shrugged it off as a phase. However, Liv wasn’t done with me. Everyday, she came to talk to me, but everyday, I sent her away. I told her I preferred to talk to Hope. Hope and I talked casually like friends, but never again did we have an in depth conversation like we had on that first day of summer vacation. 

It wasn’t until an especially humid day in mid-August that everything began to change. Liv came into my room at 9 in the morning, like she had everyday since the beginning of summer. Before I could speak, she sat down beside me on the dark green carpet. I kept my eyes locked on Hope, and Liv kept her eyes locked on me. “You do not have permission to sit with me.” I told her. 

“I don’t recall asking for your permission.” she responded, as if she had been anticipating my statement. “I’m not here to see you.”

“Then who are you here for?” I asked, trying not to reveal how nervous I was becoming. 

I see Liv smile out of the corner of my eye as she said, “I came to see Hope.”

Me? Hope asked.

“Yes, you!” I said aloud to Hope. 

“Hope can hear me?” Liv asked.

“Of course she can. She’s not deaf.”

“Well, would you mind telling me what she says?”

I didn’t want to share Hope with Liv. Hope was my only friend. What if she liked Liv better than me? I didn’t think I would be able to handle myself if Hope left me and took over Liv’s reflection. That would hurt me more then words could describe. Of course, I had forgotten that Hope could hear my thoughts, so I jumped a little when she spoke.

I would never leave you. I swear. Liv would never understand me the way you do. And we both know that she’s not leaving until she gets what she wants. So just let her talk to me.

I took a deep breath and turned to look at Liv. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I can.”

“Ok,” Liv started. “Well, hi Hope. Uh… how are you this morning?”

I’m ok, how are you? I looked around and spotted my backpack on the floor. I reached over and grabbed my green notebook, along with my favorite purple gel pen. This way, I could write whatever Hope said, and Liv could read it. I scribbled down what Hope had said. 

  Liv caught on and leaned over to see what I had written. “I am well, thanks for asking. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

And you as well.

Liv looked like she was searching for what to say next. Finally she said, “What’s it like, living in a mirror?”

“Liv!” I snapped. “That was very rude!”

“What? How?” she screeched. 

“Never mind! I think that’s enough for today.”

Liv seemed to accept the fact that I didn’t want to be pushed right now, so she simply got up, kissed the top of my head, and left. “Bye,” she said, as she walked out the door. Hope and I continued to talk until noon.

Liv continued to come to my room every morning. Everyday, Liv would stay a little bit longer. By the end of the summer, all three of us would sit around until noon and talk. But it wasn’t just that. The same day that Liv first talked to Hope, she had made me breakfast and brought it to my room. For the first week, I would flush it down the toilet. I would do the same thing with the lunch she insisted on making me. Liv must have caught on, because after the first week, she would make breakfast before she came to talk to Hope. She would bring two bowls of cereal, one for herself and one for me. She knew that if I had cereal, Hope would have some too. Liv sat there each morning and made sure that I ate the entire bowl. After I finished, she would stay another hour to make sure I wasn’t going to go throw it back up.

On the days when she didn’t stay until noon, Liv would bring up lunch for me. She would run the same routine as breakfast. When she did stay until noon, she would convince me to help her. We walked downstairs hand in hand, and then returned to my room so that Hope could eat too. Each night I ate dinner at the dining room table, under the close watch of my sister. My parents never said anything about it. Since we ate two meals a day with Hope, she started to gain weight, slowly but surely.  

In addition to making sure I ate, Liv would come into my room at 9 o’clock each night and take my phone. If I refused to give it to her, she would wrestle me for it. Then she would turn off my light and shut my door. When Liv asked, Hope told her that she goes to bed when I do. Soon, there were no more bags under Hope’s eyes. The scars on her arms from the cuts began to fade. The only difference between us was the lost look in her eyes. I felt Hope slowly slipping away. We talked less than we used to once the school year started. 

Now that I was a freshman, I had a lot of work to do, meaning little time to talk with Hope. Each day, I made new friends based on who was in my classes. My sister came to see me everyday at the beginning of lunch. After the first month of school, I asked her not to come see me anymore. I was ok without her. I had made new friends, met new people, and even rejoined my old clubs, like band, chorus, and drama. I even joined the volleyball team. I rushed home to tell Hope all about it. But Hope didn’t seem as excited as me. Even she knew that she was slowly slipping away from me. Soon enough, my reflection would make its way back to me. Hope, please don’t leave me. I told her.

I don’t want to. But I think we both know what’s bound to happen.

Don’t say it. Please. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company while we can. I begged.

I just want you to know, I will always be with you. Even when I’m gone-

Hope stop! I cut her off. I don’t want to walk through high school without you!

That’s the best part! She said. You don’t have to!

What do you mean? I asked.

I could hear the smile in her voice as she said, Hope lives in your heart, not in your mirror.

I laughed through my tears. Hope and I looked at each other and smiled.

Thank you. I said.

 For what? She asked.

I smiled as the tears ran down my cheeks. For being my friend. And for giving me hope.

The next day was longer than ever. After tryouts for the fall show, I went home and spent hours doing homework. After a long day, I figured the best thing I could do was talk to Hope. I missed her so much, and I didn’t know how much time we had left. I raced up to my room and ran over to my mirror. There she sat, waiting for me. I looked her in the eyes and smiled. 

“So, Hope is gone?” I asked myself aloud. But of course, there was no reply. I knew that I couldn’t talk to myself, but what I had to say didn’t need an answer.

“Hey Alex. How have you been?” I laughed at the thought of talking to myself. What an absurd thing to do. But somehow it felt right to acknowledge my return by talking to myself. 

“It’s been a while.”

As I heard my name come out of my mouth, I officially felt Hope slip away for good. She was gone. I heard footsteps coming down the hall, and soon enough, Liv was sitting beside me. “I came to talk to Hope.” she said.

“You can’t.” I told her.

She looked at me with a confused expression on her face. “Why not?”

I smiled slightly. “Hope is gone.”

Her expression changed as she started to understand what had happened. “I’m really sorry. But you know what?”

“What?”

“It’s great to have Alex back.”

“Yeah, it is. And listen Liv, don’t be sorry that Hope is gone.”

“Why not?”

“Because Hope lives in my heart, not in my mirror.” 

Author's Note

I hope you all like it! This took me forever to write, and I'm very proud of it! Let me know what you think!

Reviews

[Isaiah Montelongo]

Worth the read. I found myself immersed in your words. Keep writing, though. As you are young, your writing will begin to make more sense to you, and in turn, make more sense to others. I really HOPE you have found yourself lately and are doing well. Me and you share a similar life, which made me want to keep reading. Even if it is fiction, I still felt connected. Thank you for a good read.

[Madison Warman]

Thanks so much for your feedback! It means a lot. And it was fiction, with a little inspiration from both my own life and from a few others that I know. But mostly mine... except I never talked to myself in the mirror, and I never self-harmed. Thanks again.