Chapter Text
Mira looked at her reflection in the glimmering metal she was holding. It was fresh, new, untouched. It had its whole life ahead of it, and this is what it was going to be used for. She twisted the razor in her hand, looking at every inch of it. She could see the residual oil used for sharpening at the factory distinctly from the drool on her lip from her reflection. Just another thing she was going to ruin.
She looked up to her actual mirror in front of her, she was in the downstairs bathroom of her home. It was four in the morning, everyone was asleep upstairs by now, so no one was around to have heard her enter the bathroom. Or sneak in through a window. Or throw up in front of the house. The night was still ever present on her, showing through in the smeared lipstick on her cheek and her tussled hair and the throbbing pain where her tongue was amatuerly pierced and the clothes her parents didn’t even know she owned.
The person in the mirror was rewarding to look at. All the rebellion, the dysfunction, and struggle from the week have a physical manifestation that she can poke and prod at. She could idly think about what her parents would think, whether they’d be outraged this time or if they’d just move their dinner portions back down to three people. She could look at this grotesque form that stood in front of her, still coming down from the high she started almost twelve hours ago, and feel the misery of being back in this house. It felt like taking a cheap body shot off of a corpse. This really did suck. In real time, she felt her expression stiffen back into the one she kept around her family. Not the relaxed, happy face she let slip while at parties or clubs.
As she raised her blade back up, ready to make another row of bad decisions, she heard a knock on the door. Her heart plummeted to the bottom of her chest. Sure, her parents were probably aware about a lot of the things she did, but cutting was not one of them, and it was especially not one she wanted them to find out about. She hastily stashed the blade in its hiding spot, cutting her hand in the process. There was silence for what seemed like hours, before a voice.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Dae?” Mira fully turned towards the door, grasping her bleeding hand. Her brother. “What are you doing up?”
“Cut the shit, and let me in, Mira.” Dae jiggled the doorknob, trying to get into the bathroom. Mira slowly approached the door. “I won’t tell mom and dad that you’re being a dumbass. I don’t need them being even angrier with you.”
“Wh-” Mira froze behind the door, shaking her head and firming her voice. “No, what are you doing down here?”
It was, once again, silent. Mira’s emotions swelled like waves as she managed to panic and calm herself down in an endless cycle within seconds. She felt blood from her fresh wound splash onto her dirty shoes.
“Open the door and I’ll explain.” Dae argued back, holding his ground. Mira huffed, letting a trembling hand unlock the door. As it twisted the door, all of the fear she felt in the moment seemed to melt back into her core, her face becoming as steely as it could with how disheveled she looked. Dae looked up at her with disgust, pushing past and entering the bathroom. He looked at the small blood trail that had come from the fresh wound on her hand, indifferent to it. He huffed before he got directly to the point, clearly not wanting to be here any longer. “Look. Mom and Dad are on the verge of kicking you out for good. Not just changing the locks, like calling the police if you come home.”
Mira stared down at him, her brow still furrowed but her eyes widening. She knew this was coming eventually, but she didn’t know it was this close.
“And if they see you cutting your fucking wrists that will put them over the edge.” He was pinching his brow, annoyance prevalent in his tone. He began to walk out, turning to add one more thing. “I don’t care what you do, just don’t be so obvious about it like you have been.”
Mira stood there, feeling like a shell. Her angry, scornful face stayed the same as it always did while talking to him, but she was sinking.
“Why do you care if I get kicked out?” Her voice came out as a low growl, her fist clenching and unclenching as she spoke. “When have you ever cared about what they did to me?”
Dae fully turned around to look at Mira this time.
“If our family doesn’t have a fuck up anymore, things won’t be as easy for me.” He was partially through a shrug when he collapsed to the ground, holding his face. A loud smack had echoed through the bathroom. The two stared at each other for a long, long time.
“... Go back to bed, Dae.” Mira looked down at him, the hand that slapped him flexing at her side. Without another word, he got up and left. He gently shut the bathroom door behind him, not out of any compassion but out of selfishness. She stared at the bloody hand print that she had left on the door knob, he hadn’t even touched it. He had no care for her. He never did.
She felt her breathing quicken, doubling over the sink as she shook. Tears fell into the pristine basin, the residue of her mascara looking like oil. She coughed as sputtered as she sobbed as quietly as she humanly could, biting at her arm when she felt the urge to scream bubble under her skin.
The rest of the hour was a blur. At some point she had taken a shower and bandaged her arms because when she woke up in her own bed she felt any of the joy she had felt from her last rebellion scrubbed off of her.