Voices

c h a p t e r 1 : m i r r o r

I let out an exhausted sigh, my shoulders sagging. I'm out of the house now, away from what I would call a living nightmare. There's no point in keeping my guard up.

And maybe if I keep telling myself that, one day, I'll believe it.

Because right now, no matter where I go, no matter what I do, I'll always have to keep my guard up since I'll never know what's going to happen next. Better safe than sorry. After all, I wouldn't want anyone catching a glimpse at the real Louisa, all battered and bruised and broken.

That is, if I even know who I am anymore.

I walk up to the entrance of the supermarket. The glass doors slide open silently as I approach, beckoning me in. I enter the store and take a red basket from the stack in front of the entrance. I've long since given up on using trolleys as I tend to be ridiculously clumsy in manoeuvring them.

But there are days like today when I question this choice. I don't get the chance to go grocery shopping very often, and knowing her, Mum will get me to go sometime soon anyway, considering our empty fridge. I might as well get it done all at once. It'll save so much time and energy. And I don't think I will be able to carry everything I need in a basket. Even if it all fits, I'm not sure if I can lift it.

Changing my mind, I replace the basket in its original spot and grab a trolley, my hands shaking ever so slightly with anxiousness, not wanting to cause any trouble or draw attention to myself with my clumsiness. Which, knowing me, will very likely happen.

Let's just hope this is not one of those times.

I head straight for the frozen food section, cutting through the snacks, biscuits, and chocolates aisle. I wonder how long I'll be here. Probably not too long; if not, Mum will start yelling at me for being out for too long regardless of my reasons. I begin to make a mental list of things to buy when all of a sudden, the trolley crashes into someone.

Curse me and my tendencies to daydream.

The person cries out, more in shock than in pain, catching my attention and bringing me back into reality. I look up, my eyes darting around, not daring to make eye contact with the person, guilt crashing over me like a tidal wave, gnawing at my heart like I've just done the unspeakable.

"I'm so sorry," I say hastily, my voice shaking as I speak, using all my willpower to hold back my tears. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Of course I didn't mean to hurt him. What am I saying? I'm just making an even bigger fool of myself than I already have. Way to go, Lou.

"That's alright. Accidents happen," he replies, chuckling in amusement, probably at how flustered I am.

"I'm so sorry," I apologise once more, my cheeks flushed red from embarrassment, chewing on my bottom lip in nervousness.

"Don't be."

Like I said, I'm not much use with a trolley. I should probably just avoid trolleys at all costs from now on, even if it kills me to haul a basketful of items with me.

I glance up, finally mustering the courage to look the person in the eye, only to find myself staring into the warmest brown eyes ever. They're bright and happy, and I feel myself melting from his gaze. Even so, his eyes seem glazed, giving them a faraway look, like he's deep in his own thoughts, not really focused on what's going on around him, something I am all too familiar with.

I wonder what's on his mind.

His ash-black hair is gelled back neatly, making him look like he's about to go to a fancy event or party, if it weren't for his attire, a red and black flannel and dark washed jeans, with black vans to match. He is medium-built, his shoulders broad like that of a swimmer's, and extremely tall, easily towering over me.