She remembered looking into the mirror and wishing she didn’t exist. She could still feel every moment of hurt that they’d gifted her. Her mother thought that she’d make things alright by telling her that she was beautiful. But it never worked. Then she stopped eating all of her favourite things and the only sorrow that she felt was being away from food. At least looking into the mirror made her happy now.
She walked into the room with hesitation. She knew he wouldn’t look the same. His nose had a tube stuck under it and there were scary things stuck in his arm. Her mind did a rewind to the happier days when childhood had hidden the truths of old age and death. Her heart cried for those precious moments when he’d been both a mother and father to her. She managed to smile through the tears that were threatening to come down, because he smiled at her.
Her bookshelves decorated the walls. Spines of various colours stood out in the sunshine that came through the windows. She had spent hours here, running her fingers over the titles. If she caught a speck of dust on her beloved possessions, she would clean it away immediately. Only one section bothered her; it was the shelf that had two empty slots. She never should’ve let them borrow her books.