REFLECTION.
1361 Words
CHAPTER SIX.
I can still remember it—mom’s voice, ragged with disbelief.
“Trisha…?”
I looked up.
She hadn’t moved. Still standing in the doorway. Still dressed in her church clothes. And her face?.....
God.
It wasn’t shock.
It wasn’t horror.
It was memory.
She stepped in, slow, careful, like she was walking across thin ice. Her gaze never left the mirror. Even as she knelt down beside me, her hand shaking, reaching…..not for me, but for the mirror.
“What were you doing in front of your mirror?” she whispered.
I blinked. “What?”
Her eyes flashed. “Did he touch you?”
I swallowed, my throat raw. “What are you talking about mum?” I asked, still confused.
“Did he touch you?” she asked again, louder now, a crack in her voice.
“Who and what are you talking about mom?!” I shot back.
Her whole body stilled. Her hand dropped.
Silence pulsed between us, almost louder than the mirror’s hum.
Finally, she sat back on her heels. “Asmodeus,” she said quietly. “That’s what he calls himself.”
My mouth fell open, but no words came.
She looked at me, and this time her expression changed. Grief….maybe shame……maybe both.
“You were never supposed to talk to him,” she said, her voice very low. “Have you talked to him yet?....huh???! She demanded.
“Mom you need to stop this,” I snapped. “ I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Yes, you caught me touching myself, I’m sorry you had to see that.”
I looked to the mirror. Its glow had faded now, just a soft pulse, like it was sleeping.
She nodded slowly. “He always finds the ones who need him.”
“ who mom?” I whispered. But the lie tasted wrong, too bitter even.
Some part of me understood what she was talking about, but I was too curious to know what this new world of pleasure held for me to accept it to her face.
“You.” Her voice was soft, painfully soft. “Just like I did.”
My breath caught. “You what?”
Mom stood slowly, like her knees hurt, walked over to the mirror, and stared into it.
“I was sixteen,” she said, her voice distant. “just a year older than you”
“What’s happening mom? Are you literally going to tell a story right now?” I asked…. Rolling my eyes at her, to give my lie a little flavor.
She didn’t answer at first. Just touched the crack in the glass like it was an old scar.
“He showed me love, or what I thought was love…..he made me feel seen….desired.” Her eyes flicked back to me. “But it wasn’t love, Trisha, it was hunger.”
I shook my head. “No…..mom, don’t tell me I just traumatized you.” I said, giggling to myself.
“He found you.” She said.
“He’s claiming you,” she said. “That’s if you aren’t already claimed”
She said, slightly glaring at me, almost judgmental.
My skin crawled.
She stared at me, silent.
“I thought,” she said carefully, “I had escaped him, thought our lives could be normal.”
“I thought I had escaped this?”
She threw her head back and laughed insanely for a moment, throwing me off guard.
“Mom?..... Escaped what?..... you’re confusing me right now”
“Yes!” she cried. “I thought I could keep us safe! Away from him. I didn’t want this for you!”
My voice trembled. “ Mom, I thought you were supposed to be in church, why are you here?.”
Her lips tightened. “I was weak, i didn’t know what he was until it was too late.”
I had heard enough if this already, I just wanted her to leave my room already.
My curiosity had been peaked, and I couldn’t wait to meet this “Asmodeus” my mom was going on and on about.
Part of me was trembling wickedly in my knickers, but the other part of me was trembling with curiosity and want.
“He’s not a demon in the way the church talks about demons, he’s not just temptation….he’s memory……he’s longing , he feeds on the forgotten.”
The forgotten.
My breath hitched.
‘Then I guess I am perfect for him’ I thought to myself.
“He chooses girls like us because we are full of ache, full of need. But he doesn’t love you, Trisha…..He’ll use you until there’s nothing left.”
“Mom are you telling me about my father, just after you caught me touching myself?” I asked again, giving a kudos to myself mentally for the spice.
She nodded. “And the silence came back, the hunger. I thought maybe… maybe it would skip you. But it didn’t”
“Desire is a form of permission,” she snapped. “And you gave all of yourself.”
“No,” she whispered. “She’s not ready.”
Her voice broke something in me. Some quiet thread, already fraying, finally snapped. I was ashamed, not just from being seen, but from being known. It felt like she’d peeled my skin open and seen everything raw beneath.
“I’m not ready?” I hissed. “You barge into my room, say some freaky cult-demon s**t, and now you think you get to decide what I’m ready for?”
She didn’t answer. Just stared at the mirror again.
Like it was a doorway she never truly walked away from.
“Why didn’t you tell me Dad before?” I demanded, my voice quieter now. “Why did you wait till this moment? I’ve always asked you to, and you choose today of all days!” I yelled at the back of her head.
“No one wants to hear of their dad after they’re done touching themselves!”
She turned slowly toward me, and her eyes.....God, they were so tired. Like she hadn’t slept since she was sixteen.
“I thought if I pretended long enough… it would all go away,” she said. “I thought if I prayed hard enough, if I baptized you early enough, if I told you God was watching, that He’d keep the door shut.”
She gestured to the mirror with a tight, painful flick of her wrist.
“But it doesn’t shut, Trisha. Not once he sees you.”
A slow breath dragged itself out of me. I didn’t want to admit it, I wasn’t going to.
“How long has it been?” she asked suddenly.
I froze. “What?”
“How long has he been… speaking to you?”
Mom no one came to me okay? And you really need to live my room now.
She didn't make a move, she just kept staring like she could see behind my words, behind my eyes.
“ You need to stop lying to me, Trisha.” Her voice wasn’t angry. It was pleading.
“I’m not lying!” I snapped, louder than I meant to. “God, you caught me doing something embarrassing, and now you’re making it into some… supernatural therapy session.”
For a moment I had thought I heard the mirror give a soft creak behind me.
I think mom heard it too, cause she suddenly flinched.
I didn’t.
She took a step back. Her hand trembled as she pointed at it. “If he calls again… you don’t answer. You understand me? Don’t say his name. Don’t let him in.”
I wanted to laugh. Wanted to roll my eyes. But I didn’t.
Because in the silence that followed, it sounded like the mirror hummed again…..soft, low, almost like a purr.
“Trisha.” Mom’s voice cracked. “Promise me.”
I looked her in the eye. “Sure,” I said flatly. “I promise.”
She didn’t believe me.
And neither did I.
Behind me, the mirror pulsed once.
I felt it
Warm.
Welcoming.
- Writer
