"Where were you last night?"

"Where were you last night?” Kristine asked as she stared deeply into Justine’s wide green eyes, holding the girl captive under her gaze.  “You were supposed to meet me here.” Justine watched as Kristine’s face changed as she realized the truth behind the girl’s absence. She added with a sneer, “Did you go to see him?”

The two girls were identical—almost like looking into a mirror. Each had long blonde hair that was pulled into a high ponytail off of their face, pale skin, and each wore an identical pure white gown. The only difference between the two girls was their eyes. Justine’s eyes were bright green and full of life; Kristine’s were blank and dead, almost as if the very life had been sucked from her many years ago. Perhaps it was this place that had done it to her… or her own cruel spirit.

Justine nervously played with her white gown with her fingers.

She couldn’t make herself look up and meet her sister’s eyes. There was something about the other girl that terrified her. She knew that she needed to go see him even if it might hurt Kristine.

She tried to find her voice but it was lost somewhere deep down inside her--trapped. Justine quickly changed the subject, not wanting to fight with her sister.

“How’s mom doing?”

Kristine just stared at her sister. She didn’t move to answer.

Justine just lowered her eyes. It was clear Kristine was mad at her and wouldn't answer her question as punishment.

She missed their mother. It had been years since she had come to visit.

Justine nervously looked around her room. There wasn’t much in the room. The walls were white washed and the tile floor was cold beneath her slippered feet. She had a small bed in which she spent her nights alone, a mirror, and a desk in which she wrote letters to her friends and loved ones… Though they never wrote back.

Kristine finally sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Justine could feel her stomach drop. “What is it?"

Kristine just bit her lip, refusing to tell her anymore.

“What is it?” Justine could hear her voice grow louder. Something had happened to their mother, she just knew it. That’s why she hadn’t written her back. That’s why she hadn’t come to visit. “Tell me!”

“Fine, fine.” Her sister rolled her eyes, seemingly entertained by the girl’s outburst. She looked pointedly at Justine. “But promise you won’t go all crazy when I tell you.”

Through clenched teeth, Justine closed her eyes and whispered, “What is it?”

“She’s dead, Justine."

Her words cut through Justine like a knife.

Silence. Justine simply sat there in silence. Dead silence.

“What, what….. what do you mean—dead?” she asked in a hushed, hoarse voice.

“Just what I said.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as if she was simply talking about the weather. “She committed suicide. She’s gone, Justine.”

“No! No, I… I won’t believe it! She wouldn’t… “ Justine began to scream, covering her ears trying to block out the horrible words that had just entered her mind... had begun to eat away at her. “Why?” she asked in a hushed tone as she began to rock back and forth.

“I guess she was ashamed of you… Following in dad’s footsteps and all.”

Justine’s eyes grew blurry as tears began to fall down her flushed, blotched cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to bring herself some sense of comfort.

“Are you going to be okay?” Kristine asked suddenly in a worried tone.

Both sisters raised their heads to look into each other’s eyes and their hands met, palm to palm. Kristine was crying as well. Silent tears streaming down her face.

“Everything’s going to be alright, Justine. You’ll see,” she promised the girl with a reassuring smile.

Justine just nodded, silently. Kristine always knew what was best. She was right—everything would turn out fine.

*~*~*~*~*~*

JUSTINE BADWELL Room 62C: Willard Mental Hospital

“How is she, doctor?” the nurse asked the man standing outside the door looking in through the small window.

“I don’t know." He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. "She was late to her appointment last night. I finally told her that her mother had committed suicide the other day. It’s the same as when her fiancé died… she’s begun to talk to herself in the mirror again.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

This was a fun little writing prompt  from about seven years ago in my high school creative writing class and it was one of the first times I chose to take the spooky route with a prompt. I found it on my computer today and decided to rewrite it, update it, and make it a tad bit better and not so high school-y.

 

I'm going to keep the spookiness coming! I hope you enjoy...

 

a.r.w.