Seven Years

Seven years. Seven years since I was fool enough to let that precious thing slip out of my grasp, splinter into a million pieces and shatter. Shatter my hopes.

Gazing at the clock, I realise that I have one hour. One hour until I am free of the torture I have experienced for too long. Until, at last, my life will resume after being on pause for seven whole years.

***
The cold material of the pillow contrasted oddly with the hot, salty tears dripping down my wet cheek. After having the two most important people to me in the world turn against me, it was all I could do not to scream out too loudly. After about a minute, my feet somehow found their way onto the harsh, cold flooring, and before I could even think my eyes were open and I was blinking back at a small figure, her tear-stained face bitter with sorrow and emptiness, her heart heavy with loss.

The thick pane of reflective glass in front of me had never been moved from its place on the wall now, causing the old peeling paper to stay just as bold as ever it first was, now patchy against the old, faded stuff that currently plastered my surroundings.

I thought of all the times I'd looked into that mirror - as a princess once, in a shimmering blue gown sown of fairy-tale thread, then again as a fairy, in a dress stitched of make-believe leaves and flower petals of fantasy. I had spent so many happy moments looking into that mirror, from a chubby little child in dress-up to a spotty teenager, never satisfied with her appearance as she applies another coat of lipstick.

I carefully fingered the delicate designs etched into the glass, from the the intricate flowers to the fine bugs, butterflies and meaningless squiggles that were nonetheless beautiful. I gazed into its reflective magic and, and-

And then I knocked it.

My precious mirror fell to the ground with a mighty crash, leaving nothing but cracked, splintered glass in its wake.

Cracks. And all those cracks formed shards, and all those shards formed pieces, and all those pieces formed a mirror that formed my dreams. My joys. My past, my present, my hopes for the future.

And now all I had of my life was millions of shattered crystals.

Breaking a mirror - that's seven years bad luck.

***
I have been listening to the clock's irritating ticking for the past hour, and somehow managed to keep my head, knowing that every wretched "tick, tock, tick" is another step forward.

Tick, tock...

One minute. I can't believe that I have one minute until my seven years of hell may end. And to think, that six years, three-hundred and sixty-five days, twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes ago, my life nearly ended. Shortly after breaking that mirror I turned suicidal, my only hope being that it would end after seven long years.

Tick, tock...

I count down the seconds patiently.

Tick, tock...

Three,

Tick, tock...

Two,

Tick, tock...

One.

At last. Seven years of ordeal are at last over. Maybe now, I can live properly - find some friends, visit my family, maybe even-

Then the phone rings.