“Marcy!” I called desperately.  I was still in her bedroom by myself. “Marcy, please come back!”  I didn’t know how long I’d been here.  The days and nights that passed meant nothing. “You can do whatever you want to me, just please don’t leave me alone!!”

 

I tried the door again and it wouldn’t budge. 

 

My chest hurt. 

 

“Marcy!”  I pounded on the door. “Are you out there?!  Please!! You don’t have to let me out!  Just come back!”

 

I slid to the floor and curled into a ball. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. There was a weight inside my chest, taking up all the space. 

 

I didn’t know how to escape from this prison. I couldn’t get through the door or windows.  I couldn’t think myself back to my world. I could visit it fleetingly, but it was just like a memory. I was always still here. 

 

It was getting dark outside again. I left the light on and curled up in Marcy’s bed.  Nighttime here was frightening. There were shadows outside the windows, and I could feel the mirror looking at me whenever I crossed in front of it.  If I turned the light off and tried to sleep I could feel something in the room with me. 

 

Something with claws, and teeth. 

 

I remembered this feeling from our childhood. I remembered cowering with Marcy under the covers, not moving even an inch so the monsters couldn’t see us. 

 

I was safe if I didn’t move. 

 

If I kept the light on it stayed under the bed. 

 

I wanted to go home. 

 

I wanted Marcy to come back. 

 

I wanted anyone to come back!

 

I wanted to be high, if nothing else. 

 

I wanted anything that would make me feel something different. 

 

Something other than this persistent *wanting*. 

 

“What the fuck..?”

 

The voice came from the mirror, and my body froze.  My eyes swiveled to the mirror, and there was a person in it.  He was looking into the room, baffled. 

 

He seemed familiar. I sat up and climbed carefully off the bed, putting my feet on the floor as far out as possible. My ankles tingled in anticipation of something grabbing them, and I tried to ignore it. 

 

*Like I ignored Marcy.*

 

I closed my eyes against the thought and continued to the mirror. I looked into a face that wasn’t mine. Into a room that wasn’t this room. 

 

“Who’re you?” I asked. 

 

“I’m Andrew,” he said, “who’re you?”

 

“I’m Jack,” I answered. 

 

His name sounded familiar. I remembered a character I thought we invented years ago. Was his name Andrew?  Did Marcy not invent him from scratch?  Was this him?

 

“Why are you in my mirror?” I asked. 

 

“I dunno. Why are *you* in *my* mirror?”

 

I frowned and touched the mirror. I hadn’t tried using it as a door. It hadn’t occurred to me that it might be one.  My fingertips pressed into the surface. I gasped and pushed harder. 

 

Andrew stepped back nervously as my hand sank through.  I climbed onto the dresser and pulled myself all the way to the other side. I tumbled into Andrew’s bathroom. 

 

“Ok. Well this is new,” Andrew muttered. 

 

I stood up and looked into the mirror. I was looking back at myself. 

 

“I did it!  I got out!” I cheered and jumped up and down. 

 

“Cool. Good for you,” Andrew said, stepping back again. He eyed me suspiciously.

 

“Oh sorry,” I said, “Should I be quiet?”

 

“A man just crawled out of my bathroom mirror. Your volume isn’t my biggest concern.”

 

“Oh.”  I was starting to feel like Andrew didn’t know where he was yet. Or.. if he knew he didn’t remember right now. But usually seeing things that didn’t belong snapped you right out of it. “Oh!  You’re the one who hallucinates, aren’t you?!  Oh shit, this was really freaky wasn’t it?”

 

“It was,” he said with a nod, “but maybe it’ll stop watching me now.”

 

“What will?”

 

“The mirror.”

 

“You feel like the mirror watches you?” I asked. 

 

“Yea. Mostly at night. Sometimes during the day, usually in winter.”

 

“Huh..”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” I shook my head, “coincidence probably.  Hey do you have any weed or opium or anything around here?”

 

“Opium?  When are you from man?  Who smokes opium anymore?  It’s pills now, dude,” Andrew said, “And no.  I don’t have any.  Not that you could use it if I did. Pretty sure you’re not even real.”

 

“Ok well.. Real is sort of relative,” I said. “But hey, thanks for.. Y’know letting me escape through your mirror. I can probably find my way out of here.”

 

I stepped past Andrew and through the bathroom door. 

 

I wasn’t in his house anymore, I was pretty sure.  Or.. well I sort of was and wasn’t at the same time. It looked like an amalgamation of everywhere. I was in a hallway that went on forever, lined with doors on either side.  The hallway ran through Andrew’s house. Where there should have been a solid wall was just more corridor. It continued endlessly; mismatched pieces of hallway stitched together senselessly. 

 

I turned to look the other way and it was the same. The hallway extended past Andrew’s house, into a never ending row of doors from different places all Frankensteined together. 

 

“Hey, Andrew?” I called into the bathroom. “Can you see this?”

 

Andrew stepped into the hall and looked where I was looking. “What.. the.. fuck..?”  He walked to the place where his house should have ended and slowly extended his hand. “Am I.. awake right now?”  He looked back at me. “Because if I am, these meds are doing the *opposite* of working.”

 

“You’re awake,” I said as I moved toward him. “I should probably explain something to you, but it’s really complicated and I’m... tired.” I didn’t feel like explaining what was going on. There were too many pieces.  Too many follow up questions. I just wanted to find somebody who knew me. “But the fact that you can see this, means that you have a flexible definition of reality so.. can you just accept my premise, and trust me when I say this is normal?”

 

Andrew looked at me for a long time before he said, “ok.”

 

“Good!  Ok!  Do you wanna come with me?” I asked excitedly. “This is probably gonna feel like a weird drug-induced dream, and I’d rather not go alone.”

 

Andrew stared at me. 

 

“If it helps, you’ll probably wake up back here, eventually.” I offered. 

 

Andrew shrugged. “Fuck it. Ok.” He turned around and looked down the hall again.  

 

I touched his arm and took a breath. 

 

“...You scared?” Andrew asked.

 

My grip tightened. “No,” I said, then I let go of him and stepped forward, but he grabbed my hand and stopped me. 

 

“Hey,” He said. “I babysit my friends when they trip, and lately my life feels like one long nightmare.  I understand what kind of weird crap we’re in for.  You don’t have to be strong for me. If anything, I’m the guy you needed to run into right now.  It’s not useful to lie to me, or yourself.”

 

“Ok fine,” I said, “I’m scared.  I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how to find anyone I know!  I don’t how to get home!  And if I *do* get home she’ll just find me and trap me somewhere!”

 

Andrew pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. “Alright, well.. as long as you’re with me, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”  He put his hands on my shoulders and pulled back to look at me. “Weren’t you taller?  Or.. older??”

 

I sniffed and wiped my eyes and looked at my hands. “Sorry. That happens.”

 

“H-how old are you?”

 

“Feels like..” I closed my eyes. 12?  16? Something in between?  “I don’t know, it won’t settle!”

 

“Maybe we should do this later?”

 

“No!” I shouted. “This might not be here later!  We have to go now!”

 

“Ok, ok!  Just take a deep breath,” Andrew said. I did, and he took my hand. “Now, lets go.”

 

The corridor ahead seemed to be continuously shifting. I never knew what was coming until I was standing in it. Nothing looked familiar. We walked 

forward for a long time. There were no curves or turns. It just continued forward, seemingly forever. 

 

“Should we maybe try one of these doors?” Andrew asked after a while. 

 

“Mm.” I stopped and looked at the door next to us. I felt nervous about just opening doors at random. What if Marcy was there?  What if something worse was there?  

 

“I’m right here,” Andrew said, and he squeezed my hand. 

 

“Ok,” I breathed and reached for the doorknob.  My heart pounded. The inside of my chest hurt. I felt tears spring to my eyes and I backed away.  Andrew reached past me and put his hand on the knob. He turned it- “no don’t what if she’s in there?!” -and pulled it open. 

 

It was our apartment. Marcy sat on the bed, Angie was standing, talking. I held my breath and backed into Andrew. He put an arm around me. 

 

“So did you have fun?” Marcy asked from the bed, and I could tell from the way she spoke that she was me. I leaned forward a little, and fire lit in my belly. 

 

I remembered this. 

 

“Mm-hmm,” Angie answered. “Only thing is I’m not sure if I can still call myself a Gold Star Lesbian.”

 

I watched my face go blank in disbelief. 

 

I reached forward and slammed the door shut. Andrew let go of me and stepped back as I proceeded to punch the door several times. I squeezed my fist so tight I could feel my fingernails biting into the palm of my hand. Anger coursed through me so hot I could barely see. 

 

“Hey man,” Andrew said, “you wanna tell me what that was about?”

 

“Our fucking transgender ex fucking considering whether she still counts as Gold Star after fucking this trans boy she met at the goddamn clinic!!”  I shouted and pulled the door open again. I pointed inside at myself in Marcy’s body trying to process what Angie just said. “That’s me!”  I shouted. “WE FUCKED ALL THE TIME!!!  And now?!  NOW she fucking questions this?!”  I slammed the door again and paced furiously back and forth. 

​

“Wait.. Wait..” Andrew furrowed his brow and rubbed his forehead. “So that was you?”

 

“Yes!  Look we all live inside some chick named Marcy. Ok?  It’s complicated, but that was me— that was me learning that Angie doesn’t think I’m really REAL enough to compromise her precious fucking Gold Star status!!”

 

Andrew opened the door a crack and peeked through. He stared while I burned off my aggression.  I punched the wall a few times, and when I was tired I sank to the floor and squeezed myself into a ball. 

 

I didn’t make a big deal out of it at the time. I never wanted to fight with Angie.  If I kept it to myself, and let the memory get buried under every day stuff, then the chances of someone else remembering what she said was much lower. I didn’t choose to fight about it, but Marco might have.  I shoved it down so far that I was startled by my own feelings about it. 

 

I was livid. 

 

“Hey.”  Andrew sat down beside me.  “So I definitely remember her from.. I’m guessing much earlier in our life.  I was sitting at the kitchen table.. and I *was* her, somehow.. and I was contemplating how possible it would be for somebody to poison the pudding cup I was eating.   It was sealed, so you’d either have to do it while I wasn’t looking, or before it was sealed.  And pudding is pretty thick so to stir it in without me noticing would be.. improbable. So, in the factory then. I supposed if somebody spent a long time watching and.. maybe if they had a really smart computer, they could figure out which pudding would come to the store my mom shops at, and which package she would buy, and which cup from that package I would eat.”  Andrew paused and I didn’t know what to say. I was still just huddled in a ball on the floor. “I think I remember you, too,” he went on, “it’s hard to say, because nobody had names back then. You were just.. a feeling I remember having sometimes.”

 

I didn’t really know or understand what I was feeling just then.  Andrew was realizing what he was, and that was nice, but I was angry and depressed. I felt like I’d never find my way out of this endless hallway— and I felt like our ex never viewed me as a goddamn person!

 

“So,” Andrew kept talking, “what does ‘Gold Star’ mean, in this context?”

 

I sniffed and lifted my head from behind my knees. “Gold Star Lesbian means she’s never slept with a man.”

 

“Oh,” Andrew said and fell silent for a moment.  “And she said that to your face?  Did she know it was you?”

 

“Yes, she knew it was me.”

 

Andrew put his arm around my shoulders and leaned into me.  “What a fucking bitch,” he said. 

 

“I thought she fucking loved me,” I said. “I guess Marcy’s the only one who really counts.”

 

“Is Marcy the one you’re hiding from?” Andrew asked. 

 

“Yeah. She locked me in her bedroom.  She chewed me out real good, and she..” I trailed off, thinking about what she did to me.  Saying the words seemed too heavy so.. “Well anyway, she left.  She comes back randomly to yell at me (sometimes I’m not even sure what she’s talking about), and then leaves again.  And this time she’s been gone for a really long time and I was just.. in there by myself.”

 

“Solitary,” Andrew said, “harsh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What did she do to you?”

 

“I just told you-“

 

“No,” Andrew said, “you skipped over something, and I’m not about to travel through some kind of ever-shifting subconscious landscape without knowing what kind of mental baggage you’re carrying around.  Also, like.. I give a shit so.. what’d she do to you?  She beat you up or something?”

 

“No.. nothing that bad. Or.. maybe it was worse? I don’t know.  She... she just... sort of gave me a hand job but not in a way where I was supposed to enjoy it..?”

 

“Oh. So she just straight up molested you then?” Andrew said, and I thought about that. 

 

“...I... guess?  That seems like a strong word, though.”

 

“Well, you seem pretty upset by it.”

 

“She was just so angry at me while it was happening! But, like.. That was kind of doing it for me?”

 

“Context fucking matters, bro.”

 

I frowned. “I guess.”

 

“There’s a difference between an agreed upon scenario, and someone just angrily grabbing your dick. You *should* be upset by it. It’s *upsetting*.”

 

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t *want* to be upset about it. I loved Marcy.  I wanted to deny that she could ever do something to hurt me— but she had definitely *intended* to hurt me. 

 

Sometimes I just saw her face in my mind, all twisted up with hate. 

 

Oh God.  

 

Marcy hated me. 

 

I hid my face behind my knees and cried.   Andrew pulled me into his lap and wrapped both arms around me.  He hummed quietly to me for a moment, and then he spoke. 

 

“D’you wanna hear *my* mental baggage,” he said, and I nodded. 

 

“Ok, so I’m in love with my best friend, Lindsey. We grew up on the same street. Her house has always been sort of catty corner from mine for my entire life.  When we’re 13 she meets this girl Mary and they start going out. I dunno if Lindsey could *tell* I was in love with her, but Mary fuckin knew, because she asked me about it before she made a move on Lindsey.  Anyway, so like a year later they’re still a thing, but Lindsey’s getting nervous about her dad finding out about it so.. she asks me to be her fucking beard- Which I agree to because I’m a fucking idiot.  And this is all sort of secondary to my newly sprouting mental illness, which we all thought was some kind of spiritual awakening for a minute there.  So, like, reality is weird, and I’m pretending to date this girl I’m really in love with so her dad doesn’t find out she likes pussy. But wait there’s more!  So I’m like 16 right now, and Lindsey is starting to feel bad about this whole arraignment.  Someone told her I had actual feelings (probably Max, fuck that guy) and then shit got.. weird. I mean it seemed like she just hadn’t considered it before, and now that she was thinking about it.. she might be a little bi.  So I dunno, maybe it’s because she sort of likes me, maybe she just feels bad for me, either way, she starts throwing me a bone every now and then. Which is.. weird and confusing. Especially since I’ve been, like, going a little crazy for a few years now.  Oh- and when I was 13 my dad killed himself like three days before Christmas. I found him dead in the bathtub at, like, four in the morning. So there’s that too.”

 

“Shit,” I said. 

 

“Yea he was a dick. I mostly care because my mom was devastated.  Also he took, like, an entire holiday with him, and he picked the biggest one. It’s fucking impossible to avoid Christmas. Like.. just... what a fucking dick.”

 

I nuzzle into him. I didn’t know what to say. I felt hallow. My mind was empty. I was just a lump of wanting flesh that didn’t understand it’s own desires. Andrew tightened his arms around me. 

 

“Do you want to just rest here for a while?” He said.

 

“I want..” I tried to think of the words. I wanted to *feel* something.  I wanted to shed this emptiness and fill it with.. with.. the warmth and the weight of Andrew’s touch was the only thing I could feel. “..you.”

 

“Well I’m right here,” Andrew said. 

 

“No, I mean..” I huffed and searched for my words. 

 

“Oh you meant like— yea that’s not happening.”

 

“You’re not even a little bi?” I looked up at him. 

 

“No, I’m *very* bisexual. That’s not my issue,” he said. I furrowed my brow. “Jack,” he continued, “your like nine right now.”

 

I looked at my hand. “I.. I don’t care—“

 

“Ok, well it creeps me out, and I’m not going to so...” Andrew shrugged and trailed off. 

 

I huffed and burrowed into Andrew’s sweater. He hugged me tighter and laid down on the ground. 

 

“Let’s just rest for a minute,” he said, “We’ll talk about it again when you’re older.”

 

I settled into his embrace, and I focused on him when the emptiness was to much.  It was strange how nothingness could hurt so much. It was like something was missing. Like something had been cut out of me and now there was just this aching hole. 

 

I don’t know why it made me so young. I felt like this a lot. It’s why I started drinking too much and smoking opium. I just needed *something*, anything to replace that feeling. I spent every day pretending to be this dignified, proper, fucking aristocrat, and I sucked at it. I never did anything right. Or good enough.  Not for my parents, not for Marcy, and.. I didn’t even count to Angie. 

 

I didn’t fucking count at all.