When I look in the mirror instead of seeing a 15 year old beauty I see the broken remnants of a 10 year old girl. She stares back at me with the widest of eyes, almost confused and dazed but the rest of her is broken as if she's some porcelain doll and the look and the cracked lines remind me that I was once her and it scares me. Sometimes the boy who started it all appears behind her staring at me as if in a challenging manner and most of the time I am too startled to even glare back and the smile of satisfaction on his face makes me want to throw up but the girl is still staring back with the widest of eyes and she's so afraid as the boy places his hands on her shoulders digging in and I want to reach through the mirror to help her but he's already squeezing her hard and a second later the both of them are gone. But it's not the last I'll see of them. It's almost a daily thing and more times that not lately I see him too. Sometimes it scares me when he appears alone, looking at me as if he knows something I don't, like any minute he'll reach through the glass and pull me in and I'll be that girl broken and wide eyed and scared and confused because this boy didn't understand that I was ten years old and that I shouldn't have been out and that what he did to me deserved nothing less than a 12 year sentence but he took the easy way out with one shot and now I'm trapped as the broken ten year old in the mirror serving his 12 years trapped inside my head instead of behind bars which is somehow worse. And I know that over the course of four years I kept it bottled up until I finally let loose and couldn't hold the broken soul of that girl and the devilish remains of that boy and I told someone exactly who they were and I wondered if when they looked at if they saw that broken ten year old that I seemed to see in the mirror more often than not and I realized that maybe they did. And that terrified me that someone could see that little girl who didn't know what she was doing, that was roped so far in with this terrible boy that backing out was next to impossible and when she finally did it was her who was left with the broken porcelain pieces that she picked up herself letting the sharp edges stab her repeatedly and attempting to glue them back together and put herself back together without help. It scared me that someone saw this broken girl and instead of running away they found a glue gun and took apart the pieces before putting them back to make them stronger. I realized that I hadn't done as good as a job as I had thought and that I needed someone to reach around back and fill the hole that they seemed to fit perfectly into. And when they came face to face in the mirror beside me with the boy himself, a devilish smirk growing and one eyebrow raised at the new visitor, they looked back with the bravest of eyes daring him to step through the mirror and the broken girl no longer looked as broken with patches of perfect porcelain where they had touched and she didn't look scared just stared in awe at the beauty beside me and I for once felt strong enough to send the boy away. And the girl waved goodbye with a large at piece smile and everything wasn't ok but the broken pieces were less noticeable and it was better.
