"mom," she said, eyes puffed with tears, "this letter says his name."
"you think i care?" she yelled, straightening her black dress and putting on her hat, "the boy has given us enough trouble already. go throw it in the trash."
when she didn't move, shell-shocked, her mother whirled around, "i said, now!"
she stumbled back, her vision turning mushy around the edges as she clutched the envelope to her chest, the number ten marked boldly on its front. she didn't know what was going on. she didn't understand, and she missed him. she missed her brother, the best thing in the world, and she didn't know where he was.
she wanted to give him the letter. he never got it. what if it was his pretty girlfriend, or his best friend, or his teacher? he deserved to know. he had to know.
she had to give him the letter.
but it was too late. the boy in the mirror had crawled out, and he had killed her brother. the boy in the mirror had killed her entire world.
he had died before the letter, and what if the letter could have saved him?