A Shattered Mirror

This is my entry for the Movellas "Secrets" competition! :) -Everyone has secrets. Everyone has memories. Everyone has a past. Often times, all three come back to haunt us. Seventeen-year-old Tallulah made a mistake. Nobody knows what she did, and the guilt is eating her alive.

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1. A Shattered Mirror-

Nobody ever knew what I did. I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't even get myself to believe it.

I looked up at the mirror, hating the girl in the reflection. She was a monster. My hand balled up in a fist and slammed against the glass, shattering it.

It was back when I’d just gotten home from boarding school. My parents had shipped me away at the beginning of freshman year. They’d no longer wanted anything to do with me. My little brother was their treasure, and I was simply a burden they had to carry.I'd always despised my little brother. He was perfect, and I was the definition of a teenage delinquent. A screw-up. A failure at life. A nobody. He had the perfect grades, the perfect personality, and the perfect attitude. There was nothing wrong with him. As for me, it seemed I messed everything up. I flunked out of school, smoked, hung out with a bad group of friends, and didn't give respect to anyone. He was the reason I was sent away. My parents assumed that because he was perfect, I had to be too, or it meant something was wrong with me.

What I hated the most was how kind he was to me, no matter how nasty I was to him. Jealousy was always my biggest problem. He had everything I ever wanted. I always wished I could trade lives with him, and exist in his world, a one without flaws.

"Hey, Tallulah!" my little brother smiles, excited to see me again.

"Get away from me, brat."  I glare at him.

He ignores me, and runs into me with a hug. I shrug him off and shove him away. He stumbles and falls to the ground. I continue walking, but he gets up. He's persistent today and follows me.

"Please don't ignore me; I missed you." he frowns.

"Can you go away? You're annoying me." I snap.

My parents come outside.

"Great, look who's back." my mother mutters.

"Tallulah, come over here." my father demands.

I roll my eyes and walk over to them.

"Quit being rude to your little brother or you're going right back to where you came from."

I nudge past them and go inside the house. I storm off to my room and slam the door.

A "Welcome back! We missed you!" would've been nice, but instead the world revolved around my stupid little brother, Rafe, like always. Things hadn't changed at all while I was gone.

Rafe enters my room.

"Get out."

"Please just come for a walk with me, okay? I'm sorry about Mom and Dad. We'll go out into the forest. We'll talk." he pleads.

I think for a moment.

"Okay, just let me change first."

"I'll wait outside the door."

I shut the door behind him and lock it.

I slip on some jeans and a sweatshirt.

I open the bottom left drawer of my dresser and ruffle through the clothes. I find what I am looking for at the bottom of the pile. I tuck it into the waistband of my pants so it is hidden and open the door.

"Let's go."

I follow him outside deep into the forest in our backyard.

The brown, dead leaves crunch on the ground as we step on them. The end of fall is nearing; most trees no longer have leaves.

We sit by our tree house, the one across from the pond. Dad built it for Rafe when we were little.

I sit with him for a while, thinking about whether I should do it or not. He tells me that I am a great sister, and that he loves me and he's missed me, and that he's sorry. Always a kiss-up, he was.

"Bullshit," I mutter.

"What?"

"BULLSHIT."

I run my hand over the waistline of my jeans, feeling for the object I'd tucked in them earlier.

I look over at him. My mind is set.

I pull the gun out of my waistband.

I point it at him.

I squeeze the trigger and let go.

The bullet speeds towards him, then pierces his chest, breaking his skin and rocketing straight through his heart. His body goes limp as he falls to the ground.

Rafe is dead.

I killed him.

I killed my own brother.

My feet pick up speed and I run. Run somewhere, anywhere, anywhere but here.

I looked at myself in the cracked mirror, knowing I could never take it back. I looked down at the gun in my hand. The same gun I had shot my brother with a little under two years before.

I put the barrel of the gun into my mouth.

I pulled the trigger.

 

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