Bloodstone Page 7

  I glowered at my mother, my face challenging and unrepentant. It irritated me that she always had such an uncanny knack for discovering what I’d been up to.

  ‘How did you find out, Mum? Spies?’ I challenged her to respond and propped myself up by placing a supportive hand next to my pillow. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Esme press her nose against the glass, desperate to hear more. Shadow swished his tail in annoyance and did a quick exit. The tension in the room had driven him away.

  Mum exploded with irritation. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. What were you doing down there? You know it’s unsafe.’ Mum’s face tightened with an unguarded fear that caught me by surprise.

  ‘Don’t get all panicky, Mum.’ I shifted in bed to watch her from a better angle.

  ‘I’m not.’ Mum’s voice rose shrilly, and she fidgeted, picking fuzz from her trousers.

  ‘Why don’t you want me to go there?’ I punched the stuffing of my pillow with a fist.

  ‘I can’t and I won’t say.’ She dug her heels in, scarring my wooden floor to make a point.

  My teeth ached with tension. I wished Mum would stop making such unfounded statements. ‘In other words, it’s nothing, and you’re just afraid I’ll run into stupid delinquent boys,’ I retorted.

  Mum spun to face me and placed her hands on her hips. ‘What do you mean, did something happen when you went there?’

  ‘No,’ I lied, my voice rising in anger. I might as well have shouted “yes” from the rooftops. A convincing liar I was not. I knew what had happened. Ryder had happened. I feared if I wasn’t careful, Mum might drag the truth out of me. From my vantage point on the bed, I watched as Esme’s expression changed. A dark shadow crossed her face. It disappeared almost as soon as it had appeared. I couldn’t help but think that amounted to an odd reaction for my mirror friend to make.

  My mother glared at me in exasperation. ‘Get up, Amelina. You can’t achieve anything by lingering in bed and staring at yourself in that wretched mirror all day.’

  Esme recovered from her momentary shadow, and she pulled a face and giggled. I nearly responded but stopped myself. I didn’t want any hassle, and Esme’s predicament had to be the last thing Mum needed to know about.

  Mum glanced at her watch, frowned, and disappeared down the stairs. This was the normal time for her to get ready for work. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Mum’s departure did nothing to lift my deep sense of frustration.

  I felt like screaming; Esme was in for it. But I had to get out of bed before I could tackle her, and that meant a supreme effort. As soon as my tired limbs were vertical, I grabbed my dressing gown, adopting it like body armour, as if I intended to battle with the philosophising mirror girl. I advanced towards her. She stepped back, but she had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. At that moment, I knew for sure she existed. She wasn’t just some delusional figment of my unhinged imagination.

  Esme adopted a shamefaced expression. ‘Talk to me, Amelina, it’s so lonely trapped in the mirror, please don’t desert me.’

  ‘Hmmm, after that show you put on for my mother, you want me to talk to you? You’ve got nerve. I have better things to do.’ I turned my back on her dejected image. Esme collapsed. She slid down the edge of the mirror and hung her head in misery. The realisation that Esme sat trapped within the mirror’s glass, day after day, unable to escape, hit me hard. What had she done to deserve it?

  Esme’s dejection worked. ‘Shit, sorry. I know it must be terrible trapped in that mirror day after day, unable to do anything, go anywhere or have any fun.’

  Esme perked up at my comments and placed her face against the glass. ‘It’s beyond terrible. No parties for me or any boyfriends to chase after. It’s enough to make a girl cut herself, but I have no knife to do it, no sharp object to smash this glass.’

  Esme backed up and made repeated cutting motions on her arm, which scared the hell out of me. The expression on her face terrified me. My voice rose in alarm. ‘Stop it, Esme. Don’t say or do that. It’s horrible and disgusting.’

  Esme jerked her head up and spoke with sadness. ‘Sometimes that’s how I feel. It’s like I want to mark my skin with sharp lines to let people see the pain I feel.’

  I shuddered at the thought of ever wanting to hurt myself. ‘Did you cut yourself before? You know, before you were locked in the mirror?’

  ‘Well, yeah. Duh, of course I did. Everyone thought I was “Perfect Esme,” but I wasn’t. I’m Esme, the girl who cuts herself,’ she said as she hung her head in shame.

  ‘No, you’re not. That’s not true. You’re Esme. Everyone wants to be like you. You’re the most popular girl going.’ I paused for a moment, unable to make sense of it all. Then as gently as I could, I asked the question lingering on my lips. ‘What made you cut yourself?’

  Esme stopped and thought for a moment before she replied. ‘It released the pain, and it bled out. Now I can’t do it, and everything’s so much worse than it had ever been before.’ Her attractive face stared back at me, and she hung back amongst the shadows of the mirror. Her blue eyes brimmed with tears and her hair drooped around her shoulders, creating an aura of sadness.

  ‘Esme, I’m so sorry, I never realised.’

  ‘Yeah well, you know now.’

  ‘I do. We can talk anytime you want, Esme, I mean it. Really, I do.’

  ‘Thanks, Amelina, that means a lot.’ Esme’s face brightened with a look of hope.

  ‘Anytime you want to hang out, just let me know.’ I paused for a moment, letting her confession sink in. What a shocker. But I knew what I wanted to ask next. ‘How did you end up locked in the glass?’

  Esme shook her head and gazed at me. ‘I cut myself deep, so deep I could feel my life bleeding away. I accepted the offer of a chance to live, if you can call it living. In exchange, I promised to keep a terrible secret. Now I’m bound to this mirror for all eternity unless someone can break the curse,’ said Esme, tears flowing from her pretty blue eyes down her face.

  My hand flew up to my throat. I had to know more. ‘Who cursed you?’

  ‘Whoa. That’s a secret I can’t share. But believe me when I say trust no one.’

  ‘Trust no one?’ I brushed my hair away from my face, uncomfortable with Esme’s answers. ‘That’s terrible. If I couldn’t trust anyone, I’d be lonely.’

  ‘That’s me,’ Esme said, pointing to herself. ‘I long to free myself and you, too, but you have to listen, Amelina. You’re in danger.’ The word ‘danger’ clung to her lips as she released the words in one tense, heartfelt moment.

  ‘Danger?’'

  ‘That’s what I said. Danger.’ Esme glared at me from the other side of the mirror.

  I scratched my head, perplexed at her suggestion. ‘From what?’

  ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘Oh, right, you’re no help at all. There’s no way you can protect me. You can’t even jump out of the glass if I need you. And you can’t even tell me what’s going on,’ I said, shaking my head in exasperation.

  ‘I can’t. Don’t you understand? Didn’t you listen? I’m stuck here. A prisoner, forever.’

  Esme’s tears fell again, and they reminded me of tiny, captured raindrops on the mirror’s glass. She paused for a moment to think and then placed her fingertips on the glass. She stared at me with an urgency written on her face. ‘Don’t go out today, Amelina. Keep me company. A storm’s coming, I can feel it.’

  I felt a shiver of apprehension run up my spine. ‘What’s that? A weird Esme prediction? Why are you talking like that?’

  ‘If you’d poked around in this mirror for the time I have, you’d sound like me too! It does strange things to you.’

  I nodded. What more could I say? The threat of danger Esme spoke of sounded real. Poor Esme, how wrong I’d been about her. I couldn’t believe what she’d just told me. What a confession! Esme, the girl everyone longed to emulate, cut herself. That had to be the strangest, saddest news I’d ever heard.

&nb
sp; Puzzle Piece 13:

  Esme’s Reflection

  Some siblings can’t help,

  Escape the prison they’re in

  What do siblings do?

  Whether they are real or not,

  They’re always there for you.

  Esme had the habit of talking to her imaginary friend, her perfect reflection—Sunflower Esme. She did this whenever her emotions threatened to crumble. Today, I caught her doing it, and without meaning to, I slipped into eavesdropping mode again. I lay on my bed, pretending to sleep, listening to her discussion with her own reflection.

  Esme stared at her reflection shining back at her from the other side of the glass. ‘You’re cruel. Stop it. Stop showing me my cuts.’

  ‘No!’ her reflection screamed.

  ‘Why did you have to show me that? My healed cuts peeling open, bleeding like I’ve just cut myself.’ I watched as Esme covered her eyes with her hands, trying to obliterate the sight of her cuts. I could see the horror in the wide-eyed shock of Esme’s reflection.

  Her distressed reflection shrieked another question, mimicking her voice. ‘Why did you do it?’

  ‘No one understands!’ Esme wailed, addressing her reflection. ‘I cut to bleed my emotions out. I’m not doing it because I want attention. People say that, but it’s untrue.’

  Her reflection replied by shrugging her shoulders as if she didn’t get it. ‘I couldn’t understand why anyone would cut.’

  Esme tried to explain, the tension showing in the lines around her mouth. ‘I can’t control my emotions. It’s the only way I can release my pent-up feelings. I have to release them somehow. For a moment, I feel like I’m in charge. Can’t you understand? It’s me deciding—how to cut, where to cut, how deep to go. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop doing it. It’s my addiction. Everyone hates me, but they pretend to love me. Who could blame me for this one failure?’

  Esme’s reflection cried, but Esme ignored her. She carried on, and I almost wished she could take back her words so I could reverse what I had just seen and heard. I remained silent, listening to Esme’s painful words as she continued speaking.

  ‘I might have been the most popular girl in school, but my skin yelled no. It itched to tell me that I was the worst. Everyone thought I could do it all, the dancing, acting, singing, sports, and academic stuff. I swear they’d expect me to be the school circus act, you know, the best juggler if it came to it. I had the fittest boyfriend, the perfect family. But it was all lies. I was a lie. I couldn’t hack it. I take that back. I don’t want to sensationalise this. I want no one to suffer like me. Please listen. I can’t bear anyone to suffer, to torment themselves like I’ve done.’

  By now her reflection had collapsed into a sobbing fit. I blinked back a tear, fighting the overwhelming urge to cry too. Yet Esme’s words continued.

  ‘This familiar black place has no exit door. I slide down an imaginary cliff face, and when I reach the bottom I gasp for air, my heart hammering in my chest. My frequent palpitations of anxiety drown me in sorrow.’

  Esme clutched at her heart in a dramatic fashion. I peeked through half-closed eyes, and I could see the message written in her reflection’s beseeching eyes; they were imploring her to push through, to fight.

  Through a veil of black words, Esme continued. ‘I couldn’t cope with the pressure, and the hidden hatred everyone had for me. Who wants to be friends with the girl that can do everything? Nobody.’ Esme seemed to rally and stood taller as she continued her diatribe at her reflection in the mirror. ‘They pretended to like me. The depression didn’t just go for my brain; it bit me in the throat. Dark thoughts reached the redness of my heart. Soon everything turned black, everything except my blood.’ Her reflection’s eyes glowed with the intensity of hot coals. Esme paused for a moment, sucked in a deep breath, and then said, ‘We all need to be loved; we all need to be saved.’

  Her reflection nodded, so overcome with emotion that was all she seemed able to do. ‘I’m stuck with you, imperfect sunflower girl,’ she sobbed. Moments passed and turned into an eternity. Esme said nothing. I couldn’t help wondering if perhaps she didn’t have the strength to say another word. However, her reflection continued to fight, with eyes burning like two tornados of whirling pain, willing Esme to be strong.

  Esme swallowed her sobs, gaining the confidence to say one last thing. ‘This bloody mirror’s a prison to you, and me, reflection. I can’t cut anymore. I can’t do anything. I can’t feel the wind on my face, smell flowers, skinny dip, snog a boy, or lick an ice-cream. I can’t even bite my nails; every time I try, the mirror engulfs my fingers with a slippery glass fluid restricting my movement. The mirror’s in charge and I’ve lost control. This is the worse punishment ever. All I have is Amelina, and she’s my only hope to save me.’

  Her reflection nodded in agreement, finally understanding the full degree of Esme’s horror. I said a silent promise to myself that somehow I would find a way to save her. Then I heard the words burst from Esme’s mouth that I would never forget.

  ‘If Amelina saves me, I swear I’ll never cut again.’

  Esme’s sad reflection whispered two barely audible words: ‘Me too.’

  Puzzle Piece 14:

  The Quartz Crystal

  Tell me what to do,

  I will do the opposite,

  I’m stubborn you say,

  It’s my least endearing side,

  I strongly must disagree.

  I realised I had two options: I could admit to Esme that I had overheard her shocking conversation with her reflection and try to help her, or I could pretend I hadn’t heard her words. My decision was easy, and I chose the latter. I did not understand what a dreadful mistake it would be. Until you see the scars, you can’t appreciate just how terrible and distressing it is. But I’d failed her, I had zoned out. Sometimes when your own life is in such turmoil, it’s easier to pretend a friend’s suffering isn’t happening because you don’t have the energy to focus on someone else’s mess. I couldn’t cope with her problems and mine too.

  Somehow my silence drew a wedge between us. As this awkwardness grew, the atmosphere in the house drifted from awful to abysmal. In the meantime, Esme’s prediction about the storm turned out to be right. The sudden change in the weather echoed my downcast mood, and the clouds shifted across the sky, threatening a downpour.

  The ceiling above me pushed down and squeezed out the air as the oppressive weather boxed me into a tiny space with pockets of humid, breathless air. I longed to escape, to run away from my pathetic failings, even if it meant risking the storm and the potential wrath of Esme’s warning. I felt imprisoned in a stifling glass house. Claustrophobia gripped me. My palms became clammy, and my heart rattled against my ribcage.

  I ran down the stairs, eager to open the front door and escape. A gale blew in, pushing me towards the wall. I pushed against it, forcing it to retreat. I closed the door as the wind spewed leaves, twigs, mud, and debris into the breeze, hurling them around me without mercy. I pulled my coat tighter and pressed on.

  The force of the wind filled my lungs with sweet, liberating breaths of much-needed freedom. I danced a merry jig, which uplifted my downcast mood. I ignored Esme’s words of warning: ‘Don’t go out today. A storm’s coming, and change with it.’ I listened to the dance of my heart. It won. I risked it.

  I followed the pathway that I knew led to where I had last seen the Crystal Cottage. Buffeted like a kite on gusts of wind, I continued, but the strength of the storm didn’t carry me to the cottage, as I’d hoped. There was no sign of it anywhere.

  Amidst the wailing winds, I detected a footstep, a clue. Once again, these footsteps were following me. I guessed the cottage teased me, playing hide and seek, and those footsteps were part of the game. I peered around at my surroundings, trying to figure out what to do next. The steps stopped and went silent. The winds of change bellowed and, with one final gust, died down.

  Dismayed by this unfortunate turn of events,
I sighed and turned back. As I walked into the house, I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror. I looked a fright. Esme shook her head at me to say, I told you so. Rushing upstairs to the bathroom, I picked up my brush to untangle the mess of my unruly hair. The knots refused to budge as if they tangled on their own each time I ran the brush through the strands.

  Esme laughed. ‘Oh, my God! What a state you’re in, Amelina! Ha, Ha! It serves you right. I told you a storm’s on its way. You’re lucky that nothing bad happened while you were out. Your mum’s going to have a fit if she sees you.’

  For a moment, I forgot all about Esme’s problems. All I could think about was this growing frustration at not being able to find the cottage. I regretted when I had told her to get lost. To make matters worse, I followed it with these hurtful words, ‘I swear that being stuck in that mirror has liquefied your cheerleading brain. Stop following me all around the house, or I won’t talk to you anymore.’ Immediately, I hated that I had spoken to Esme like that and wished I could gulp back my thoughtlessness.

  I was about to say sorry when she said, ‘Knock it off, Amelina. Stop being such a bitch and stop twiddling with your hair! It might be a pretty blonde colour, but it’s only hair! Can’t you see that I’m lonely? Don’t you care? You’re my only friend. Can’t you at least try to imagine what it’s like to have only one friend that doesn’t want to talk to you?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Esme, I …’ Esme glowered at me. She shone an unflattering light on my face, which shadowed my reflection in the glass.

  Her face crumpled, and she continued to vent. ‘I can’t follow you anywhere, Amelina. I’m trapped. You should know not to speak to me like that. It’s cruel.’ A single tear escaped from Esme’s eye and landed in the palm of my hand, leaving behind a shimmering quartz crystal.

  I stared at the gem in astonishment. The quartz crystal came to life and vibrated in my hand. The unmistakable hum encouraged thoughts to swirl in my head. This proves that Esme is linked to the Cottage. Somehow, she has to be, but how?