“She’s crashing! Get the cart!” Nurses rushed around me as orders were thrown at them by a doctor reaching for a defibrillator; the sound of someone flat lining in the room was deafening and frightening. I found myself stuck in place by the doorway of room 529, unable to move but more importantly, afraid of what I may see. Clasping a hand against my chest, I did my best to hold my sobs in when the sound of a strangled cry not belonging to me caught my attention. It came from the lips of my father, his hands which once held two cups of coffee where now struggling viciously against two men in scrubs. Security could be seen running towards us as my father began calling out a name that I couldn’t hear. Have you ever seen things move in slow motion without sound? What did they call it..? Surrealism. Yes, that was the word. Nothing seemed real at this moment and honestly, I couldn’t understand what was happening. Not my father collapsing to the floor like the broken man he has become, not the doctors who were now speaking to him causing more hysteria and most importantly, not the pale hand that had fallen from under the blanket keeping the face hidden from view. I fainted. Two months have passed since then… “Dad..?” Looking through my father’s bedroom door, I waited for a response yet as expected, there was none. For the most part, he’s been holed up in his bedroom mourning mom’s loss. Was it strange that I didn’t feel so overwhelmed with emotion? They say we all mourn differently yet, I barely felt anything. Maybe it was because we were never as close as other mothers and daughters but still… They said we resembled each other, I didn’t see it yet I’ve been told I have her bedroom eyes hidden beneath thick eyelashes, same dark brown curls that crept down my back. We even have the same beauty mark that rested against our collarbones and a gap between our teeth but still…I felt more like a plain Jane then the beauty that was my mother. Maybe this was the reason why I now avoided looking in a mirror. It could even possibly be the reason why my father barely spoke to me now… Perhaps the resemblance was too much for him for he barely exchanged words with me, never ate the food I made rather he just ate take out. It was like I no longer existed to him although there were times when he would walk by my room and just stop, right by the doorframe and just stare at me before shutting the door closed. I have never felt so…alone in my life until now. Sighing heavily, I closed the door figuring it would be best to leave him to deal with his demons alone. A small word escaped me, “Mom,” and I realized that it wasn’t the sound of heartache but a word filled with anger. My hand clasped tightly against the locket I kept around my neck. It was hers, something passed down throughout our family and honestly, a part of me wanted to trash it but I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. It wasn’t anything spectacular yet it was the only thing I had of hers. A gold oval shape with some kind of green markings on it and a broken clasp leaving it locked for who knows how long. There was a mild curiosity as to what lies within and maybe that’s why I wanted it. Does it make me a cruel person when curiosity overrides sentimental value? Lying in bed, I found myself unable to sleep again. It’s nearing 2am but there was this irritating buzzing sound that seems to have gotten louder since the first time I heard it two months ago. Shoving the pillow against my head, a groan of annoyance escaped me before I finally gave up and sat up ruggedly. “Dad..?” Calling out again, I still received no response. “Must have slept with the TV on again.” Sighing loudly, I placed my feet on the ground when I froze. There was something breathing heavily by my closet mirror. Slowly, I reached over to my nightstand and turned on the lamp that rested on it. As the room lit up, the breathing got louder and a small yelp escaped me. How is this possible? The mirror hung against the door with no stand and was covered by a white cloth with me being the only person in the room. Fear crept over me as I got up and ran towards the door before a scream escaped me. It shut closed and I could hear voices. There was a breeze creeping from under the sheet, getting stronger as time passed by and I fell in an attempt to hold on to something. That breeze had now become violent; it bounced against the walls while it pushed me towards the black void that now took hold of my mirror. “DAAAADDD!!!” I screamed as my grip started to loosen but still he did not come. Looking down, my once dull locket was floating before my eyes and now glow an eerie green. My grasp was gone and I found myself struggling against the frame, fear in my heart but it was no use. I was gone. “Is she dead?” “I call dibs on her nightgown!” “What?! I found her first so I’m getting it! Besides, it would look prettier on me anyways.” “H-hey, no fair! I called it!” The sounds of scuffling followed, stirring me slightly from my slumber. There were young children around me and I raised a hand weakly, trying to speak but my words were jumbled together and I couldn’t focus on anything. “She’s alive! Let’s get out of here!” They scrambled away, I called for help or at least I thought I did before my hand fell and darkness overcame me again.