The Mirror - A Short Story, Maybe

Brinna went through the mirror. She didn’t know where it was going to take her but she couldn’t stay here anymore. Her mom was gone. She left when she was a kid. Brinna tried to find her recently but to no avail.

Her dad was a mean old drunk who had beaten her for the last time. Her grandmother found an old mirror at a yard sale a few weeks ago and gave it to Brinna as a belated birthday gift. At 16 years old, her grandmother thought, what could a teenage girl want more than a Floor mirror. Her grandmother knew what her son was doing to her granddaughter and this was the gift she thought of?

Brinna is battered and bruised. Her father came home drunk early in the evening while she was doing her homework. Dinner wasn’t on the table and while it was not yet dinner time, to a drunken mean old bastard like David, it didn’t matter.

This beating had been brutal but this time, Brinna had had enough. She fought back, grabbing whatever she could to hit him with. First, it was just a dirty old glass on the coffee table. Her dad grabbed her by her throat, slamming her down on that coffee table, and start choking her.

Finally, Brinna was able to kick him as hard as she could in his groin. He let go long enough for her to get away by rolling off the table and, spotting the fireplace poker a few inches from her. Grabbing it, she turned to her father, who was still disoriented but stumbling towards her, and Brinna hit him as hard as she could across his head.

He stumbled backward, tumbling to the ground holding his head and moaning in pain. He yelled at his daughter, calling her a “good-for-nothing whore!” Brinna ran to her room, locked the door, and just for good measure, pushed her tall oak wood dresser in front of her door.

Brinna looked in her mirror. She had bruises on her neck and upper arms from when her father first grabbed her. Her back was sore from being slammed onto the coffee table. Her bottom lip was busted open but she can’t remember how. Had he punched her? It was a blur.

Just then, something happened to the mirror. Ripples started appearing as if the mirror had suddenly become water. It was fascinating actually. Brinna touched the mirror out of instinct. She didn’t know what she was doing but had the desire to touch it as to feel if what she was seeing was real.

The mirror felt squishy. Like, she was touching jello before the gel or goo? Maybe goo. No. Gel. Brinna gently pushed her finger harder into the gel when suddenly, it was gone. Her finger had gone through the mirror. Brinna took a chance and pushed her hand through.

The thought came to her. What if she just went through it? Then she wondered if she should. “What if what is on the other side is dangerous? What if it’s something I can’t handle?” Loud footsteps and shouting were coming from outside her room.

Her dad must have come out of his stupor and was now coming to finish what he started. Sure, the dresser is barring him for the moment but she knows his anger won’t let him stop until he gets into the room.

“It’s now or never,” Brinna said to herself. “Either I go through and deal with whatever is on the other side - it has to be better than this - or I stay here and hope I survive my own damn father.” Her choice was clear. She would rather take her chances on the other side of this mirror then tolerate one more minute of her father’s abuse.

Her father is banging on the door now, yelling at her to let him in. He knows something is holding the door shut so he starts pushing. Brinna can hear him slamming his body into the door trying to push the dresser. It budges slowly. There is no time. Brinna steps through the mirror.

Anywhere is better than here.

Where did Brinna go? Maybe we will find out in another post. For now, though, where do you think she went?

Thanks so much for reading!