My parents, whose entire lives revolved around my older sister, had no idea that I had another family waiting for me inside my mirror. They went on a three-day family vacation, and only when they were driving back did they suddenly remember they had left me behind. But when Mom and Dad rushed into the house in a panic... They found me perfectly clean, well-fed, and happily playing in my room. The guilt and panic on Mom's face instantly morphed into utter shock. "Have you been taking care of yourself this entire time?" I shook my head. "I've been living inside the mirror for the past few days. My mommy and daddy in there took really good care of me." A flash of disbelief crossed their eyes. And then, an explosive, thunderous rage. "You know exactly why your sister Chloe developed severe autism! It was because of the trauma of having a second sibling! She hasn't spoken a word to anyone except her dolls for years!" "And now you have the audacity to copy her? Making up some imaginary mirror world just to manipulate us and steal attention away from your sister?!" Years of accumulated exhaustion, stress, and repressed anger from raising a special-needs child were suddenly, violently unleashed onto me. I was locked inside my bedroom. Through the door, Mom issued a vicious warning. "Taking care of your sister has drained every ounce of energy we have! This family cannot afford to raise two autistic children!" "If you ever play dumb or act crazy again, you can pack your bags and get out of this house!" I curled into a tiny ball in the corner of my room, sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe. Suddenly, a pale, withered hand reached out from the surface of the mirror, gently stroking the top of my head. "Three strikes, little one. If they abandon you one more time... Mommy will take you away with her." ... The exact second the doorknob turned, the mother in the mirror retreated backward, dissolving into the glass. My real mom stood coldly in the doorway, glaring down at me. "We have guests coming over soon. Get out here and help set up." I followed her like a shadow, taking the stack of plastic plates she handed me. My eyes couldn't help but drift toward the massive, heavily decorated cake sitting in the center of the dining table. "Don't just stand there staring at it. Hurry up and help slice the cake." Halfway through handing out the slices, it suddenly hit me—today was my birthday. So Mom and Dad actually remembered. My nose stung, and I quickly wiped the tears welling in my eyes. I suddenly remembered that before Chloe got sick, Mom and Dad used to be really good to me. Whenever they took Chloe to the mall, they would always bring back new dresses for me, too. They didn't just force me to wear Chloe's faded, ill-fitting hand-me-downs like they do now. If I leave with my mom and dad in the mirror... would they be sad? The next second, Mom clasped her hands together, her voice trembling with absolute, overwhelming joy, completely shattering my little fantasy. "Chloe can finally say 'Mom' and 'Dad' again! Today is a day for celebration!" "When the rest of the family gets here, maybe Chloe will even say hi to them!" I froze in place. The tiny, hopeful smile on my face slowly collapsed. The doorbell rang, and a flood of relatives poured into the house. Chloe was instantly surrounded, treated like an absolute superstar. "Chloe, sweetheart! I heard you're finally talking! Come on, say hi to Uncle Dave!" "I'm your Aunt Susan! Say my name, and I'll give you a massive birthday check!" Under the intense, suffocating gaze of the entire family, Chloe pressed her lips tightly together. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the fabric of her dress, absolutely refusing to make a sound. Seeing the relatives' enthusiasm start to wane into awkwardness, Dad quickly shot me a sharp, commanding look. He was ordering me to rescue Chloe from the spotlight. I squeezed my way into the circle of adults, pasting on a sweet, bright smile, greeting every single one of them loudly. "Uncle Dave! Uncle Mark! Aunt Susan! Mia is going to hand out the cake now!" As the relatives ate, they smiled and showered me with praise: "Mia is such a little sweetheart. She knows exactly what to say!" "If I had a daughter as articulate and sharp as Mia, I'd wake up laughing every day." Only Aunt Susan kept a sour, judgmental look on her face. She deliberately raised her voice: "What do you mean, 'articulate'? It's painfully obvious she's just trying to steal the spotlight." "She's already six years old! When my son was her age, he could recite the entire periodic table from memory. Being able to say 'hi' to people isn't exactly a groundbreaking achievement." "She's only showing off because she knows her sister is autistic." The warm glow on Mom's face instantly vanished. She glared at me, her voice sharp with reprimand: "Mia! Why are you always talking so much? Your sister finally managed to open her mouth, and you just had to swoop in and steal her thunder!" The proud smile on Dad's face evaporated as well. He shot me a freezing, disappointed look. "Put your little manipulative tricks away. Stop using these cheap tactics to beg for attention." Uncle Dave, seeing me drop my head in silence, asked with a mocking half-smile: "Mia, tell Uncle Dave... who taught you how to be so manipulative and attention-seeking at such a young age?" Chapter 2 My bottom lip trembled violently, my eyes instantly filling with hot tears. I instinctively looked toward Mom and Dad for help. They both flinched slightly, seemingly just remembering the impossible, suffocating standard they had forced upon me. Ever since Chloe's autism diagnosis grew more severe, Mom and Dad forced me to talk constantly whenever I was around her. Countless times, I would talk until my throat was raw and bleeding, begging her to respond, while Chloe just stared blankly at the wall. Mom clutched her chest, her voice choking with a mix of grief for Chloe and pure, unfiltered resentment toward me. "Talk to your sister! Keep talking to her! Say something, right now!" "What is the point of having a mouth if you aren't going to use it to help her?!" "You never, ever think about what's best for your sister! All you do is exist to make her upset!" But Chloe's version of being "upset" meant sneaking me handfuls of candy, fully knowing I wasn't allowed to have any. When I was three years old, she fed me so much candy that my baby teeth completely rotted out. I cried in agonizing pain every single night, unable to sleep. In the end, I had to get all my baby teeth surgically extracted, and Mom and Dad beat me severely for being a "glutton." Dad would frequently sit me down, his face a mask of absolute authority, lecturing me: "Mia, the child psychologist was very clear. We need someone in the house to constantly model verbal communication for Chloe, to provide her with continuous positive reinforcement." "As her younger sister, it is your responsibility—your absolute duty—to help her. You have to be the perfect role model for her." But I was trying! I was trying so hard to be the perfect role model, to get Chloe to talk. Why were Mom and Dad still never, ever satisfied with me? While I was standing there, completely overwhelmed by the adults' interrogation, my hands gripping my dress, Dad suddenly shoved a bowl of strawberries toward me. "Go sit in the corner and eat your strawberries. Stop talking." I took the bowl. But the second my fingers touched the rim, Chloe suddenly lunged forward. She violently ripped the bowl out of my hands and smashed it onto the hardwood floor, letting out a piercing, ear-shattering shriek. Mom and Dad's faces instantly drained of color. Chloe was having an autistic meltdown. Mom's eyes went red. She aggressively poked me hard in the forehead with her index finger, screaming: "Mia! Why are you so damn greedy?!" "Your sister hasn't even eaten yet! Why did you try to eat first?!" "You know perfectly well that your sister lacks a sense of security! Everything in this house belongs to her first! She always gets priority!" Looking down at the crushed, ruined strawberries staining the floor, a bitter, suffocating lump rose in my throat. I dropped to my knees, picking up the smashed strawberries piece by piece, placing them back into the bowl. My lips trembled as I whispered: "I know I was wrong. I don't want the strawberries anymore." "I'll give them all to Chloe." Uncle Mark, seeing me acting so submissive, frowned. He asked curiously: "Why is Mia suddenly acting so well-behaved? I remember when she was three, she was incredibly territorial over her food. If she had something in her hands, no one could take it from her." Hearing a rare word of actual concern from Uncle Mark, a tiny shred of warmth bloomed in my chest. Without thinking, my deepest secret simply slipped out of my mouth: "Because the mommy in the mirror already gave me a lot of strawberries to eat..." Meeting Mom and Dad's absolutely freezing, horrified stares, I instantly realized I had messed up. I desperately clamped my small hands over my mouth, shaking my head violently to signal I hadn't said anything at all. Aunt Susan wasn't buying my "well-behaved" act for a second. A cruel, mocking smirk twisted her lips. "This little brat is an incredible actress!" "Playing the victim to farm sympathy, and now she's lying about having a mother inside the mirror? Why don't you just tell us you're moving into the mirror to live with her?!" Hearing Aunt Susan's words, I completely froze. How did Aunt Susan know that the mommy in the mirror was going to take me away? Mom noticed the sheer panic flashing in my eyes. She was shaking with rage. "Mia! Didn't I teach you that good girls don't lie?! Why are you spouting this psychotic nonsense in front of the entire family?!" "Tell everyone right now that you made up the 'mommy in the mirror'! Tell them it's a lie!" I instinctively glanced over at the large decorative mirror hanging in the hallway. The mommy in the mirror was leaning her head out of the glass, her hollow, dead eyes staring directly at me, a grotesque, unnatural smile stretching across her face. I looked back at my real mom, absolutely terrified, stuttering: "Mommy, I'm not lying, and I'm not making it up..." There really is another mommy in the mirror. But under the crushing, furious weight of my real mom's glare, the second half of my sentence died in my throat. Uncle Mark, who had spent a few years studying at a Buddhist monastery, took my words incredibly seriously. He frowned and turned to Mom: "I don't think Mia is lying. That mirror might actually be cursed or holding some bad energy. You want me to do a sweep of the house for you?" When Uncle Mark pulled a set of prayer beads and a protective talisman out of his bag, Mom's face grew visibly tense. Uncle Mark was just about to ask me a few specific questions about the mirror, when he was abruptly cut off by Chloe's screaming. Chapter 3 Chloe had picked up a jagged shard of porcelain from the smashed bowl and was aggressively slicing it across her own wrist. Mom instantly descended into absolute, hysterical panic. She threw herself onto Chloe, desperately restraining her arms to stop her from mutilating herself. Dad looked at me, his eyes filled with an agonizing, bone-chilling hatred. "Did you intentionally lie about seeing parents in the mirror just to trigger your sister's guilt and make her cut her own wrists?!" "We love you so much! How can you be so vicious and evil?! Where do you come up with these twisted, psychotic ideas?!" I shook my head violently, tears completely blinding me. "Daddy, I'm not lying..." But Dad didn't want to hear a single word of my explanation. He hastily excused himself to the relatives, scooped Chloe up, and drove her straight to the emergency room. After the relatives awkwardly shuffled out the door, I was left standing in the living room entirely alone. I had tried so hard to be perfect. Why did Mom and Dad still refuse to believe me? Because Chloe's cuts weren't deep, the hospital released her quickly. But Mom and Dad still took turns sitting by her bed, maintaining a 24/7 watch, terrified she might try to hurt herself again. The only time I ever saw them was when they came out to the kitchen to cook meals specifically for her. But the absolute second I tried to get close to them, they would instinctively physically push me away, recoiling from me as if I was diseased. "Mia, stay the hell away from me." "You already pushed your sister to the point of slitting her wrists. Are you not going to be satisfied until you actually watch her die?!" I shook my head, my face crumpling in sheer misery. "Mommy, I don't know why Chloe cut her wrists, but I swear I don't want her to die." Even when Chloe would have severe meltdowns—pouring boiling hot water on my arms, or taking scissors and hacking my hair to pieces—I never resented her. Because I knew Chloe was only sick because of me. If I hadn't been born as the unwanted second child, Chloe would never have gotten sick. Mom and Dad wouldn't have to live in a constant state of agonizing misery. But hearing Mom say those words... my heart still hurt so much it felt like it was bleeding. Two days later, Chloe finally came out of her room. She was significantly more active than before. Not only was she calling Mom and Dad by their names again, she was even stringing together simple sentences. According to Mom, it happened when Mom was sitting by her bed sobbing uncontrollably. Chloe felt so bad for her that she finally spoke up to comfort her. But I had spent years desperately trying to guide Chloe to speak, and she never reacted to me once. How did she miraculously start talking just because Mom cried? Clutching the ragdoll the mommy in the mirror had given me, I quietly pushed open the door to Chloe's bedroom. I saw Mom and Dad sitting on the edge of Chloe's bed, coaxing her with the gentlest, softest voices I had ever heard: "Chloe, sweetie, from now on you just focus on resting and getting better. I don't care what your sister does to try and steal our attention, Mommy only loves you. You are my only priority." "Daddy feels the exact same way. That's why we've been completely ignoring your sister these past few days. We're teaching her a lesson so she remembers her place." Chloe's eyes were slightly red. She spoke very slowly, dragging out her words: "Don't... blame... Mia. She's... little." "If I wasn't here... everything would be better..." Hearing Chloe say that, Mom and Dad were overwhelmed with a mix of fury toward me and absolute heartbreak for her. Dad wrapped his arms tightly around Chloe's shoulders, making a soft, ironclad promise: "Don't be silly, sweetheart. Don't ever say that. You will always be Mommy and Daddy's most precious treasure." "Your sister's mind is too dark and manipulative. We've decided to send her to live with your Aunt Susan for a while so she can be properly disciplined. Once you're fully healed, we'll think about bringing her back." The ragdoll slipped from my trembling hands, hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud. Chapter 4 Mom and Dad whipped their heads around, a flash of panicked guilt crossing their faces when they realized I had heard everything. Dad, seeing me standing there in complete, devastated silence, decided to just rip the band-aid off. "Well, since you heard us, your mother and I aren't going to hide it from you anymore." "Your Aunt Susan called us yesterday and offered to take you in for a while to straighten out your behavior." My body felt like it had been injected with lead. Tears pooled hot in my eyes as I looked up at the two people who were supposed to protect me. "Mommy... Daddy... just because Chloe is sick, you have to pretend you don't love me anymore? You're just going to throw me away completely?" Dad looked away, unable to meet my eyes. Mom, however, let out a harsh, impatient scoff. "You're the one who's so absolutely convinced that the parents inside your mirror love you more than we do. Fine. Take your mirror and go live with Aunt Susan." With that, Mom shoved me out of Chloe's bedroom and violently slammed the door in my face. Listening to the warm, muffled laughter coming from inside the room, a dull, agonizing ache spread across my chest. Maybe they were the perfect, happy family of three. And I was just the unwanted, disposable outsider. I walked silently back to my own room. The mommy in the mirror had already prepared a massive, steaming plate of my favorite food, waiting for me. She unfolded her withered, skeletal frame, offering me a warm, loving smile. "Come here, sweetheart. Come eat. As soon as you're done, you're coming with Mommy. Your daddy is waiting for you inside." I nodded, my eyes completely blank and dead. I obediently ate the food the mommy in the mirror had made for me. Halfway through the meal, the tears I had been fighting back finally broke, falling in massive, heavy drops onto my rice. I sobbed quietly, looking up at the mirror. "Before we leave... can I go say goodbye to Mommy and Daddy?" The mommy in the mirror offered a grotesque, stretching smile. "Make it quick. Mommy is taking you away very soon." I wiped my tears, grabbed a pen and paper from my desk, and wrote a letter to Mom and Dad. I ran out to the living room and threw my arms around them. "Goodbye, Mommy! Goodbye, Daddy!" Mom looked at the letter in my hand and swatted it away like it was radioactive trash, letting it fall into the garbage can. Dad's jaw was clenched tight. "Don't think playing these pathetic little guilt-trip games is going to make us back down. We're still sending you away." "Your Aunt Susan will be here in five minutes. Go pack your bags and get out." I nodded, my heart unbearably heavy. Even though I knew this was the end, the pain in my chest was still excruciating. I went back to my room, but I didn't pack a single thing. I just sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the room where I had lived for the past six years. It suddenly felt completely alien to me. But it was okay. I had a mommy and daddy waiting in the mirror who actually loved me. And there was no sister in there who hated me. Living inside the mirror with them had to be better than this, right? The next second, Aunt Susan's loud, shrill voice echoed from right outside my bedroom door. "The door won't open! This little brat definitely locked it from the inside." Mom and Dad began furiously pounding on my door, screaming at me. "Mia! You are seriously pushing it! How dare you lock the door on us!" "Your Aunt Susan is here to pick you up! Open this door right now!" "We are dragging you out of this house today even if we have to tie you up! We are curing you of this toxic attitude!" Realizing I wasn't going to open the door no matter how much they screamed, Mom and Dad completely lost it. With a violent crash, Dad kicked the door entirely off its hinges. But I was just standing perfectly still in front of my mirror, offering them a quiet, final wave. Saying my last goodbye. Mom and Dad glared at me, their faces purple with rage, stepping forward to physically drag me out of the room. But in the exact next second, a pair of withered, skeletal hands erupted from the solid glass of the mirror behind me. All the blood instantly drained from Mom and Dad's faces. In absolute, paralyzed terror, they screamed at the top of their lungs: "Mia! Get away from there!" I turned around, and without a single second of hesitation, threw myself completely into the embrace waiting for me inside the glass.
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