In A Minute

Response to "write a personalized re-telling of a Christmas Carol". TW: self-harm

I can’t sleep. I can never sleep on Christmas. My tiny glowing orb of an alarm clock ticks by the seconds as I stare at it mindlessly.
11:57
It is almost midnight. Almost Christmas Day. Yet, I don’t feel the same excitement that I used to when I was younger. It’s like the magic is gone.
11:58
I decide that if I’m awake, I may as well do something. My parents forbid me and my brother to go into the living room before eight in the morning, lest we desire our presents to be returned. I miss when the presents were from Santa.
11:59
I get up to pee. I had one too many peppermint hot chocolates before I attempted to doze off. I walk into my bathroom and turn on the light. My cinnamon candle is still burning and the sweet spice fills my nose. I breathe deep.
12:00
I glance at my figure in the mirror. I don’t look like how I used to. Short hair. Dark eyes. Slender legs. Many scars. My fingers trace over the razor thin bumps on my legs. My skin no longer looks smooth as in the days of my youth.
12:01
I begin to weep. For what? Who knows. Anything makes me cry these days. I once read this book about poltergeists and how exerting negative energy attracts negative spirits. I don’t know if I believe that.
12:02
My mirror shakes. Wait, does it? Maybe it’s just my vision being blurred from suppressed tears. I wipe my eyes and focus. The mirror shakes.
12:03
My reflection does not look like me. It looks like seven year old me. A chubby girl with crazy hair and Camp Rock pajamas looks at me. Her stare is contagious.
12:04
She waves at me. And smiles. A smile that does not know pain. Behind her, my six year old brother plays with his new Nintendo DS and my parents hold hands as they smile at us. At me. My two dogs in their younger days snooze by the roaring fireplace.
12:05
Younger me blows a kiss and returns to the scene. Before she fades, I see her open a present and exclaim in glee. My parents laugh and my brother scoots in closer to see my prize. I don’t remember what I got for Christmas when I was seven.
12:06
My mirror is normal again. I still have to pee but my brain can’t form coherent thoughts from what I just saw. I stand and stare at the mirror, begging for the younger me to come back.
12:07
My normal reflection is back in the mirror but she moves when I do not. She holds a razor. I want to close my eyes but I can’t. Something tells me I must look.
12:08
My reflection carves her skin. There is too much red and not enough green for this Christmas scene. She sheds a tear and continues. I cry for her.
12:09
She stops. She wipes her upper thigh with a damp black wash cloth. She dries her eyes, puts on black leggings to hide the too festive red, and joins her family downstairs. There is no fire. The dogs are still there but they are old. Her brother hides in his room. Her parents are on their phones. They ask if she’s alright. She smiles. I’m fine.
12:10
She is gone. That is me. My sobs become uncontrollable and I can no longer bare to look at myself. I crumple to the floor.
12:11
The bathroom floor is too cold but I sit anyway. I cry for the young seven year old and what she does not yet know. I cry for the current girl and the demons at her feet. I cry.
12:12
I can physically feel a pain in my chest. In my heart. I do not like it. I can endure any other type of pain. But not this … not this.
12:13
Where is it? I can’t do this. I can’t. But it’s the only thing that will stop the ache in my chest.
12:14
I follow the lines on my thighs. I can feel them drip. The bathroom floor is no longer cold.
12:15
I do not cry. I do not feel. I do not look into the mirror. The only thing I see is red. Red … it washes over me.
12:16
A hand grabs my wrist. I should be startled, but I’m not. I’m not anything. I close my eyes.
12:17
The hand slowly pulls me up to my feet. I gather the energy to open my eyes and look.
12:18
It’s a woman. One I don’t know. She already has a black wash cloth in her hand and presses it to my leg. How does she know? She smiles a sad smile. She cries too.
12:19
The woman turns me around to face the mirror. She gently lifts my head so that I’m looking at me. At us.
12:20
She lifts up her dress to her thigh and I see the scars. Faded scars. Her face. She looks at her face. The one that is mine.
12:21
I turn to her. I turn to me. She gives me a hug full of warmth and love. How did she learn to love? As she pulls away, I watch her climb into the mirror.
12:22
She has a husband who waits for her. A child clings to her leg. A Christmas tree shines in the background. There are two dogs snoozing by the fireplace.
12:23
She waves at me. And I hear her utter a single word. “Wait.” The scene fades. I am left looking at myself again.
12:24
I don’t even try to comprehend what has happened. I just simply cry. But this time, I cry out of joy. Joy for the future.
12:25
I slowly return to my bed, forgetting why I even went to my bathroom in the first place. I sleep. I dream. I can finally rest.