THE DOZEN

THE MIRROR.

But even she wouldn't believe her own words.

With countless shards of glass in her loose grip, she stood to her feet. She gulped thickly, swallowing the words that dared to pour from her mouth, and finally locked her eyes back onto Carson, who still stood motionless. "Um...," she reluctantly began, "I'll be out here whenever you're ready to... come out, I guess. I'll try to find something for your hand and for your face."

And she dimly beamed a small, soft smile he didn't even get to witness. The smile was only for his sake, for if he somehow chose to look in her direction for once. For all other purposes, she'd never smiled such a foreign smile. She believed that if he saw it, he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between that smile and her genuine smile.

But he didn't even look.

He didn't witness her leaving either. The only thing that he took notice of was another roar of thunder when the bathroom door slammed shut. The crimson-colored rain followed just moments thereafter, dripping from his clenched fist onto the bits of glass by his feet.

And he let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

∘∘∘

"ALMOST THERE, ALEXA. You almost had it," the woman's soft voice rang, easing the young girl's frustration. "Here. Watch me."

With the deftest of fingers, the lab-coat-clad woman had turned a single sheet of paper into an elegant paper swan within moments. The dark-haired little girl only gaped with wide eyes, bewildered. "Wait," she spoke up, "what?"

The woman breathed a light, warm laugh and smiled a toothy grin. "Try it again," she soothed, an assuring hand trailing up and down the child's back.

"I'm not going to be able to do it," the child huffed in response. "I've been trying for, like, three years. Nothing's changed."

"It's only been a week, Alexa," the doctor stated softly, a small smile gracing her lips. "You'll never get it if you don't keep trying. What's the worst that could happen?"

"What if I use up all the paper in the word and there's no trees left, so we all die?" Alexa exaggerated in response, her youthful face blanketed by genuine concern. "Or, or, or... What if I get so many paper cuts that I die, right here? Or I get an infection? Or—"

"Alexa," the doctor interjected. "It's just origami." The young girl's small shoulders rose with a deep inhale as she hopelessly slumped forward, leaning against the table before them. "You're not going to die and the trees are going to be just fine—"

"Dr. Donovan." Never had Alexa heard a voice so harsh and stiff. Her small eyebrows pulled together as both she and the doctor at her side turned to see the suit-clad man standing in the doorway. He stood with his hands clasped, a desolate scowl plaguing his chewed lips. And his eyes portrayed no clear emotion, just blankly staring at the lively doctor across the playroom. "Come with me, please."

She curtly nodded and smiled an obligated, polite smile as she stood to her feet. "Stick with it," she shakily whispered as she bent down to Alexa's level, a trembling hand affectionately placed on the girl's shoulder. "Maybe... Maybe once you get it down, we can start reading a new book, yeah?"

The little girl eagerly nodded her head, an excited breath hitching in her throat as she beamed a bright grin. Breath bated, the doctor returned with the best smile she could muster in that moment before reluctantly exiting the cell, head hanging low.