Cordelia

It hadn't been like this before Cordelia had disappeared. True, it hadn't been the greatest, and Jackson had still been miserable most of the time, unable to hold a candle to her older sister. Cordelia had been perfect- beautiful, with long blonde hair, huge blue eyes, small and willowy with a figure Jackson could only dream about. Her smile had been warm and sincere; anyone who saw it automatically smiled back. Not only had she been beautiful, she had been smart; valedictorian of her senior class, planning on going to Yale. And as if brains, beauty, and boyfriends galore was not enough, Cordelia had been nice, a rare quality in such a blessed girl. Everyone, from the hottest boy to the most homicidal Goth, had been treated by her as if they were the same in her eyes. She had even been sweet to Jackson, though she was three years younger than her and hopelessly a misfit in all situations.

Could Jackson wonder at the fact that Cordelia had been her parents' favorite child? How could she, with her rather ordinary looks, C's and D's, an tendency to withdraw from social groups and make no friends at all, possibly compare? If Cordelia was a Hope Diamond, Jackson was a cheap imitation birthstone.

Hell, even her NAME showed the difference between the sisters. Cordelia had been named after a sweet, lovely Shakespearean character. Her name was pretty and feminine, like her. Jackson hadn't even been given a girl's name. Jackson had been named after Michael Jackson, who had since then bleached himself white and been arrested for molesting little boys! Kind of shows you what her parents had thought about how she'd turn out.

Cordelia had called her Jax, knowing she hated her name. She'd always been nice like that. Jackson knew she had pitied her. Cordelia had always defended her when their parents had gotten on her case, asking her, ' What is wrong with you, Jackson? Why do you have to dress like the walking dead? What is with those godawful screeches you call music blasting from your radio? Why can't you act more normal? Why can't you be more like Cordelia?'

Cordelia had always stuck up for her, saying, ' Leave Jax alone, she's doing the best she can. She's just different. She's not me. She's Jax. She's an artist.'

Jackson had known she was trying to be nice, but she had hated when Cordelia had defended her. It had made her feel helpless, and she hated felling like she needed her older sister to stick up for her. The one thing she prided herself on was being able to take care of herself. She didn't want Cordelia to feel sorry for her. She only wanted to show her, to show her parents and everyone else, that she was not Cordelia and never would be.

Jackson had known all her life she would never be as good as Cordelia, no matter how hard she tried. She had set out to be as different as she could. Though she was smart, she knew she would never do as well in school as Cordelia, so she purposely didn't hand in assignments and only did what she had to to pass. She knew she could never be as pretty as Cordelia, so she made herself look as unattractive and odd as possible with Goth makeup, punk clothes, and badly dyed blue hair. She knew she could never have as many friends as Cordelia, so she avoided everyone, rebuffing anyone who was friendly. All of this she had done to show she was not Cordelia, and she had suceeded. The one sucess of her life, and it only made her miserable.

But if  Jackson had been unhappy then, it was nothing compared to her misery when Cordelia was gone.

Cordelia had disappeared one day when she was 17 and Jackson was 14. She had gone out to run some errands and never returned. Search parties had been sent out, missing posters placed up, to no avail. Cordelia's picture had been on the news and in the paper for weeks- her disappearance was big news in their small town. But three years had passed, and Jackson was now the same age as her sister had been when she'd disappeared. There had been no news at all since that day. The police had found nothing, had no leads. Though foul play was suspected, without a body, nothing could be proved.It was as if Cordelia had simply vanished.

Jackson's parents, as well as the rest of the town, had been devastated. They had gone hysterical with grief, barely able to function. They had refused to consider the possibility that Cordelia was dead and paid a lot more money than they could afford to hire a private investigator. They had been forced to give that up when the high bills yeilded nothing. But three years later, Jackson's parents still expected Cordelia to one day walk into the house like nothing had happened, for life to return to how it used to be. Three years had passed, and they still grieved her loss as though it had been three days. The only difference was now they bickered constantly, on the edge of divorce. Jackson was so used to hearing it now it rarely bothered her, or at least she could convince herself it didn't.

She could hardly blame her parents for reacting the way they had. She knew they wished it had been her, not Cordelia, who had disappeared. She saw them looking at her every day, she could read their thoughts, though they said nothing: ' Why Cordelia? Why, if we had to lose a daughter, couldn't it have been Jackson? Why our Cordelia?'

Jackson often asked herself the same question. Why did it have to be her sister? Why NOT her? if it had been her, everything would be okay for her family now. No one would miss her. There certainly wouldn't be any new shows about HER, no teary teachers saying what a great student she had been. No one would care. Well, Cordelia might miss her screw-up kid sister a little, but she'd get over it. Everyone would. Jackson knew it should be her, not her sister, who was gone. She was the one who deserved it.

And yet despite feeling sad and guilty that she was still here, Jackson was also angry at Cordelia, for vanishing, for leaving her alone to cope with her parents and their devastation, their bitter disappointment in her, their screaming and crying and loss of control. Jackson really and truly had no one left to stand up for her anymore, the incompetent sister. Teh other daughter, Jackson,the one who will never measure up.

Sometimes, when Jackson felt really mad at Cordelia, she thought that Cordelia was really okay, really alive. Sometimes she was sure no one had kidnapped or killed her, that she had just taken off, ran away to live alone, away from their parents and their suffocating pride and love for her. It made her furious to think that Cordelia could be alive, causing thier parents such grief for no reason and making Jackson's life hell. But for some reason, she also liked this fantasy. Not because in it Cordelia was okay, but because it pleased her to think of Cordelia as capable of such cruelty. Jackson liked the thought that maybe Cordelia was not perfect after all, that maybe she wasn't as nice as she seemed. She liked to picture her as so completely selfish.

But Jackson knew this daydream wasn't true. Cordelia would never do that. She really was too sweet to do such a thing...

************************************

Jackson's music pounded in her ears; "Everybody's Fool," by Evanescence. How appropriate, she thought humorlessly. She could still hear the raised voices of her parents, even though she had turned the volume all the way up. She closed her eyes, wanting only to sleep, to escape from her dreary life, no matter how briefly, but sleep would not come. She was not surprised. Ever since she'd turned 17 a month ago, she'd suddenly become more screwed up than ever. She rarely could manage to fall asleep, and when she did, she had nightmares, so bloody and terrifying she'd wake up screaming. Jackson had tried to stay awake, afraid to have more nightmares, but she was so tired, all the time, that sometimes she couldn't help it and fell asleep. But right now she was so depressed, so tired, that she felt like even risking a nightmare would be worth a chance to be oblivious to everything.

After several minutes, Jackson knew she would not be blessed with sleep today. Sitting up, she trudged slowly over to her dresser, sitting at its little stool. She stared into the mirror, hating the pale, gaunt face staring back at her; her blue hair hanging lifelessly in her face, hiding the smudged makeup on her eyes. This was another thing that had surfaced suddenly at 17; staring into the mirror. Jackson had always spent as little time in front of the mirror as possible before, not needing a visible reminder of what everyone around her's eyes said: She was a freak, she was not and never would be as pretty as Cordelia, she was ugly. But now she stared into it obsessively, sometimes for as long as an hour, looking hard, intently, as though searching for something hidden in her features. Jackson could not explain why she was doing this. she knew only that, repulsed as she was by her image, she felt drawn to the mirror, compelled to stand before it.

As she sat there, despairing thoughts ran through her head. Here she was, 17, the same age Cordelia had been before she disappeared. Had she done anything worthwhile by this point? Anything to make herself successful, likeable? No, she had not. She was just taking up space.

As she thought this, she suddenly saw, in the corner of her eye, a movement in the mirror. She looked over quickly. Nothing.

You're losing it, Jax, she told herself, unconciously calling herself Cordelia's name for her. But a few seconds later she saw it again. Looking over sharply, Jackson watched in shock as a cloudy image appeared behind her in the mirror. It began to change shape and take on the form of a person. The shape- of a girl. As the cloudy image grew clearer and sharper, finally stopping, finished, Jackson realized she was staring at an image of her sister.

With a gasp, Jackson spun around, expecting to see Cordelia standing behind her, smiling her trademark smile. But there was no one there. She spun back around, looking back at into the mirror. Cordelia's image was still there, smiling cheerfully.

" No," Jackson whispered, her eyes wide with shock. " No. I am not crazy. This isn't happening."

But the image in the mirror remained. It didn't fade away; instead, it spoke to her.

" Jax."

" No!" Jackson said, her voice louder. " You are not speaking to me! I didn't hear that. You're not real. You're not here. It's a dream, a nightmare. I'm going to wake up. Hell, I'm so sleep-deprived, I should EXPECT to hallucinate. I'm imagining this. Hallucinating. I'm going to close my eyes, and when I open them , you'll be gone."

Taking a shaky breath to calm her nerves, Jackson closed her eyes. She counted to ten, then fifty, to be safe. But when she opened them, the figure had not moved. It spoke again. " Jaxxxx..."

" Noo! You're not her, I'm fricking hallucinating!" Jackson yelled, her panic growing. When you are hearing and seeing things, doesn't that make you crazy?

" Jaxxx..."

" STOP! Stop calling me that!" Jackson shrieked. It was that, the fact that the image was calling her Jax, that got to her more than anything. No one called her Jax... except Cordelia.

" Jax..."

" Stop! Stop saying my name! You're not really here! There's no way you're really here! You can't be, you're dead! You're dead, YOU'RE DEAD, I KILLED YOU!" Jackson screamed. Hearing the words only after she said them, Jackson gasped in shock. She had not meant to say them! They had flown out of her mouth before she even knew she was thinking them.

Why did I say that? she thought hysterically. That is't true, it isn't right! I didn't kill her! Why did I say that, it isn't true!

But though she thought this, frantically denying her own words, she suddenly knew, with horrifying clarity, that it was true, she had killed Cordelia, she had....

*******************************************

Jackson was 14, she was bored, watching Charmed reruns on TV in her living room. Her parents were out, both of them working. They were such workaholics they were rarely home to spend time with Jackson and Cordelia. She doubted they would be back by even 9:30. So as often occurred, Jackson and Cordelia were alone in the house together.

Jackson watched jealously as Cordelia, in the kitchen and perfectly in her view from where she was seated, talked on the phone to her boyfriend. She had been talking to him for over an hour, and she'd just seen him at school! Jackson supposed she was lucky he hadn't come over after school today as usual. It made her sick to see them together. Not that they ever did anything considered in bad taste, oh no, not Miss Virgin Cordelia. But just the sight of them holding hands was enough to nauseate Jackson.

Cordelia hung up, sashaying into the living room, smiling at Jackson. " Hey, Jax. What are you watching?"

" Charmed," Jackson muttered.

" Is it good?"

Jackson shrugged.

" I was thinking I'd go grocery shopping for Mom, she's so busy she never gets anything bought. Do you want to go with me? We can buy ice cream and make sundaes after ward."

Jackson stared at her. Here was another typical Cordelia gesture. How could she be so sickeningly nice? Was it any wonder they adored her? They never even had to go grocery shopping with Miss Perfect around. God, Cordelia could be DYING and all she would say was " Oh well, on to a better place! Life was fun!" Jackson thought scornfully.

That thought gave her an idea. An idea that though she had thought of it before, in anger or jealousy, she had never considered seriously. Until now.

Seeing Jackson staring at her, Cordelia said, " Oh, you don't have to, Jax. If you want to stay home, I don't mind."

You wouldn't, would you? thought Jackson. " Oh no," she said, standing up. " I'll come with you."

" Oh good! You'll see, we'll make it fun," Cordelia promised.

Why we most certainly will, Jackson thought venemously.

They got into Cordelia's new Subaru, a birthday present for her from their parents. On Jackson's last birthday, she had gotten a Walkman. Typical.

" You're so quiet," Cordelia remarked. " Is something bothering you?"

Jackson seized the opportunity, glad Cordelia had given her an opening. " Yes, there is," she said. " I want to talk to you about something."

" Well, sure," said Cordelia. " Go ahead."

" I don't like to talk in cars. It makes me feel weird not to talk to someone to their face. Can we stop by Hollow Cove before the grocery store? We haven't been there in a long time, and we'll have privacy."

Hollow Cove was an abandoned park several miles away from the busy parts of town. It had once been lovely, but littering and vandalism over the years had made it look trashy and run down. The paths to walk on were fulll of litter, and the huge pond was filthy and polluted, a deep brown so murky that no fish could survive in it. No one ever went to Hollow Cove except bums and vandals. Most had forgotten it even existed, so seldom did anyone visit or pass by. But Jackson and Cordelia loved it, despite its ungroomed exterior. It was their secret place they had gone to as children.

" Oh, okay. sure. We can walk around like old times," Cordelia said. She flashed Jackson a smile, which she did not return. She was thinking, Got her!


Cordelia chatted for the rest of the drive to Hollow Cove. Jackson nodded in all the right places but did not listen to a word she said. All she could concentrate on were her own hateful thoughts, aimed at her sister. Cordelia the Great, Cordelia the Perfect. Cordelia the Saint. Everything she said and did was wonderful. Even if Jackson had never screwed anything up, even if she tried her hardest all her life and did pretty well, she would never have been able to compare. If she'd been " normal" and "popular" like other girls, she still would have fallen way, way short when held up to Cordelia's perfection. Who wouldn't? Jackson knew as long as Cordelia was around, she would never be able to be just Jackson. She would always be standing in her 20 foot tall shadow.

I wonder what it would have been like if I'd been an only child, she thought sadly. Everything would just think of me as normal. Not a freak. Not a loser. Not " Cordelia's blue-haired kid sister!"

They won't soon, Jackson vowed. They won't. Soon everyone will forget Cordelia even existed!

So furious and resentful were her thoughts that she didn't even stop to consider whether they were true or reasonable. She was so caught up in her many years of suppressed rage and envy that she could only think of what she wanted, and not the consequences. And what she wanted was Cordelia gone.

The sisters arrived in Hollow Cove around fifteen minutes later. Cordelia pulled into the parking lot, turning off the ignition.

" Well, here we are," she said. Jackson nodded, feeling jittery and full of anticipation. She had no doubts, only impatience- and hate.

The girls got out of the car and began to walk to the dilapidated park entrance. There was no one in sight, not even any squirrels or birds. The parks' welcome sign swung by a single rusted chain. There were no cars, no shops, nothing nearby that showed signs of life. Hollow Cove was very private, well hidden from the public and roads. Jackson had often wondered why it was so far from public. Now she was glad.

Entering the park, they began to walk along its trash-lttered paths. " Let's go sit under the big oak tree," Jackson suggested, her eyes scanning the area and coming to a quick decision.

" Okay,'' said Cordelia, following her as she made her way to it. The tree was perhaps forty feet from the pond, huge and covered with poison oak. The area around it was soft, covered with moss, and very comfortable looking. Reaching their chosen spot, Jackson and Cordelia sta down, Cordelia cross-legged, Jackson merely sitting on her thighs. She faced Cordelia, careful to keep her face blank.

" Well," said Cordelia, " Not to rush you or anything, Jax. But if you're ready to tell me what's bothering you, I'm ready to listen."

" I'm ready,'' Jackson said. She stared at Cordelia for a long moment, taking her in one feature at a time. Her eyes slid down her face, her body, and back up again. Cordelia looked down, puzzled, then back up at Jackson. Jackson didn't break her stare. She looked into her sister's sweet, concerned face and felt nothing but hate.

" Yes," said Jackson slowly. " Something has been bothering me for a long time."

" What?" Cordelia asked gently. " You can tell me, Jax."

" What's been bothering me is... I hate you," Jackson hissed. " I hate you, Cordelia. I wish you'd never been born. And now- I'm going to kill you!"

With those last savage words, Jackson sprung at her sister, catching her completely off guard. She slammed into her hard, knocking her backwards to the ground. Cordelia was so shocked she could only gasp before Jackson was straddling her, her legs pinning her arms to her sides, her hands wrapped around Cordelia's slender, delicate throat. Jackson squeezed Cordelia's neck with all her strength, her bottled rage making her stronger than usual. Cordelia's eyes bulged in shock and pain, and she squirmed frantically, trying to scream and unable to. She might be older- Jackson thought wildly- but I'm stronger! And she was. For once, Jackson was glad she was taller and heavier than Cordelia. She overpowered her easily.

It didn't take long for her to die. Jackson watched as her face turned red, then an mottled purple, as she gasped for air. Then as Jackson gave a final, frenzied squeeze, Cordelia gave a final gasp, her eyes frozen from where they had rolled to the back of her head. Her legs stopped twitching and were still. She no longer looked beautiful. Her blonde hair was in a disarray, her face was swollen, purple, bloody from where she had begun to bleed from her nose. She didn't even remotely resemble the person she had been when alive, the 17-year-old beauty.

Shaking, sweating, her palms hot, Jackson, with great effort, unclamped her hands from Cordelia's throat. Rising clumsily to her feet, she backed away from her sister's dead body, staring in horror at what she had done. her mouth open, she shook her head, denying the deed she had just committed. With the final breath of her sister, all rage and envy had been sucked away from Jackson so quickly it left her dizzy, reeling in the shock of what she had just done.

She had planned this, fantasized about it, she had even enjoyed doing it. But now that it was done, now that she had actually killed Cordelia, that there was no going back, she could only stare at her sister's body and pray desperately it had all been a dream.

" Oh my god!" Jackson whimpered, gripping her hair with both hands. Suddenly nausea overtook her, and she ducked into some nearby bushes and vomited. When she was finished, she sank to the ground, gasping for breath, tears running down her cheeks. How could she have done this? What the HELL had she been thinking? She had just murdered! She had just killed her sister!

I'm going to be in such trouble, Jackson thought, sobbing as the consequences of her actions finally dawned on her. I'm going to go to jail!

No! she thought forcefully. I can't, I won't! I'd rather die with Cordelia than go to jail! I'm only 14!

For several minutes Jackson could only sob, staring at her dead sister, terrified and bewildered. She felt stupid, slow, and completely lost and helpless. Finally she tried to gain control of herself. I'll have to get rid of her body, she thought desperately. I can pretend I never did anything, no one will know. I'll hide her.

Her eyes scanned the park for a spot before stopping on the huge pond in the center. Duh. The perfect hiding spot was right before her eyes. She could drag the body there and dump it into the pond. It was so deep and polluted no one would ever be able to see into it, let alone be stupid enough to swim in it. It could be years before Cordelia's body washed ashore. And people never came by the park. why, they might never discover her body at all. Everyone would think she'd just disappeared.

Yes, this was the only thing she could do. Swallowing convulsively, Jackson turned back to Cordelia's body, steeling herself for what she had to do. Tentively, she reached out and took hold fo Cordelia's skinny arms. They were already growing cool. Jackson hated to touch them; their limpness sent chills down her spine. Gritting her teeth, fighting the urge to vomit, she began to drag her toward the pond. It wasn't far away, but it sure felt like it to Jackson. Cordelia had been light in real life, 5'1 and 95 pounds, but in death she felt shockingly heavy.



After several minutes of struggle, Jackson finally had dragged her to the pond's edge. Panting slightly, she looped an arm around Cordelia's waist, clumsily gathering her legs together with the other arm. She fumbled for a minute, almost dropping her, before heaving her into the pond with all her might. To her relief, she managed to heave her toward the middle. Cordelia's body did not sink right away, but rather slowly; her face was the last to go. When she had submerged completely underwater, Jackson stumbled away from the pond, feeling weak with shock. She wanted to go home, to get away from here. She only wanted to pretend this had never happened, that everything was still normal. All she could think of was the concerned look on Cordelia's face as she said her last word: " Jax..."

Half running, stumbling, Jackson made her way back to Cordelia's car. She had only driven a car twice before, and never on a public road, but she was going to have to do it now, and well enough that no cop would pull her over and discover she didn't even have a permit, let alone a license. Getting into the car, Jackson turned on the engine. She had trouble right away, going forward instead of in reverse. She realized her mistake in time and quickly put it in reverse. She had quite a time backing up and getting on the road.

Jackson managed to drive all the way home with no major mishaps, which she supposed was a miracle in itself. Pulling into the driveway, weak with relief, she got out of the car and stumbled into the house. Every picture of Cordelia she saw (and her camera-happy parents had taken plenty) seemed to jump out at her ,each grinning broadly, increasing Jackson's paranoia. She increased her pace, wanting only to go upstairs to her room, so she could sleep, forgetting what had happened, what she had done, if only for an hour.

Finally she reached the door to her bedroom, and opening it, collapsed onto her bed. There were no pictures of Cordelia here, nothing that should remind her of her. And yet she would not leave her mind. all she saw was her face. All she could hear was " Jax... Jax..."

Crying, whimpering, her hands over her face, Jackson said, " It didn't happen! I didn't kill her! I didn't! It was a dream, just a dream! None of this really happened... it didn't!"

Eventually she fell into an exhausted sleep. When she woke, three hours had passed.... and Jackson remembered nothing. In the few hours she had slept, she had somehow suppressed all memories of the past few hours, from when Cordelia had asked her to go with her to when she fell asleep on her bed.

Jackson's parents came home at 10:00. When they asked her where Cordelia was, she replied honestly that she had no idea. This was something she'd been wondering since she'd woken up to an empty house. Her parents called the police, and with that, the search for Cordelia and the mystery of her disappearance had begun....

**********************************


As Jackson stared into her sister's image in the mirror, all her suppressed memories coming back to her with a rush, she sank to her knees on the floor, beginning to cry. It couldn't be! She had to be crazy! She had to be wrong! You don't just forget a thing like strangling your sister to death!

But she knew even as she thought this it was true. All these years of misery, where she had wondered what had happened to Cordelia, what had caused her to suddenly disappear... now she knew. It had been her. As usual, she was the one at fault, she was the one to blame. Only that time she had screwed up more than any person should be able to get away with. And yet somehow, she had.

They never knew it was me, she thought wildly. All those policemen, all those search parties, even the private detective, and they never found her body. A 14-year-old outsmarted them all. Including Cordelia. The one time I beat her at anything, I had to beat her to death!

Jackson began to laugh hysterically, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't find anything the least bit funny; she really had no idea why she was laughing. I really am a freak, she thought as she giggled and sobbed at the same time. I really am. I am a monster, just like everyone said. They were right, they were all right. I shouldn't be the one who's still here. I should be the one who's dead.

She latched onto this last idea, knowing instinctively it was true, it was right. She should be dead. She had killed Cordelia, she should have to pay for it with her own life. That was why Cordelia was here now, saying her name- the last word she had ever uttered. She wanted to send Jackson a message, to show her she could not forget forever. Why else had Jackson been looking in the mirror so compulsively, drawn to it? It was not her reflection, but Cordelia's, that she had searched for. Without even knowing it, she had been waiting for the day Cordelia would appear, letting her know it was time to pay for taking her life. And the penalty was her own.

" Jax," whispered Cordelia, her eyes locked on Jackson's. Jackson nodded slowly. She knew what her sister wanted. She knew what she had to do.

" I'm a monster," she whispered. " Something has been bothering me for a long time... and it isn't you, Cordelia. It never was. It's always been me. I hate myself. And now- I am going to kill myself."

With those words, Jackson lunged at her reflection in the mirror, knocking her fist into the glass with a vicious blow. The mirror cracked, several shards falling onto the dresser and floor. Jackson barely noticed the pain in her fist, nor that she was bleeding. She picked up a large shard in her hand, closing her fist around it. She slowly brought the shard up to her throat, remembering her hands around Cordelia's. Hesitating, she glanced over at Cordelia, still watching from her position in the mirror. Cordelia smiled, encouraging. It had been what Jackson was looking for. With a quick jerk, she brought the glass across her throat. Sharp pain blocked out all other thoughts as her blood gushed to the surface. Jackson sank onto the floor, closing her eyes. The last thing she heard before darkness settled in was her sister's voice, warmly voicing her approval- " Jax..."

**************************************



Downstairs, Jackson's parents were deep into an argument. They were screaming at each other when suddenly they heard a loud crash. They paused briefly, startled.

" What the hell was that?" asked Steven, Jackson's father.

" It sounded like glass. Do you think it was a burglar?" asked Nina, Jackson's mother.

" Don't be stupid. It was probably Jackson. She's such a klutz."

" Don't call me stupid!" Nina said heatedly.

" Well don't act stupid then," Steven said rather childishly.

" Shut up, Steven! Go see what that noise was!" Nina ordered.

Steven rolled his eyes. " Why can't you?"

" Because you're the man, you're the one who risks his life to see if we've been robbed!" Nina shrilled.

After several barbs thrown back and forth at each other, Steven finally got up to check, mainly to shut his wife up. He looked around all the windows, but none were broken. Nina came up behind him as he walked back into the living room.

" Well? Are there any windows broken?" she asked.

He shook his head. " I think you're full of it. That wasn't glass."

" Well what was it then?" Nina demanded.

" How should I know?"

" Did you check Jackson's room?"

" No, she's got that awful sign up again. Besides, wouldn't she have screamed if someone broke into her room?"

" You never know with Jackson. You better check, Steven."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, muttering under his breath, Steven made his way to his daughter's room. Reaching it, he knocked on the door.

" Jackson? Is everything okay in there?"

Jackson didn't reply. However, this was typical of her. Steven knocked again.

" Jackson?"

Nina came behind him on the steps. He scowled upon seeing her.

'' What's wrong?" she asked.

" She's not answering me."

" Is that surprising? This is JACKSON we're talking about. Just open the door."

Glaring at his wife, irritated, Steven opened the door. What he saw made him gasp, and Nina screamed, her hands flying to the sides of her face. Their daughter was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, her throat slashed visciously. Bloody fingerprints covered her mirror, and a huge chunk of glass was missing, shards scattered across the floor and dresser. A large shard was embedded in her throat.

Steven stared, shock freezing him to his spot. He could not move or think, so numb did he feel. Beside him, Nina was having no such reaction. She clawed at her hair, weeping and screaming, " Nooo! My daughter, not Jackson! Not Jackson too! Nooo!" Sobs racked her body. She shook violently with their force. Her legs buckled from under her, and she fell to the floor, crying.

Steven found himself moving forward, zombielike, though he was not meaning to do so. He was in such a state of shock he acted merely by instinct. He walked in this state to Jackson's phone, dialing 911.

" 911, what is your emergency?"

" My daughter has just committed suicide. She slashed her throat with glass," came his voice, sounding very distant and emotionless.

" We'll send paramedics right away. What is your name and address?"

Steven gave it to them, then hung up. He sank on to Jackson's bed and stared into space, ignoring his wife's keening. He did not see her or hear her; he could not even see his daughter's body right in front of him. HE looked into space and saw and heard nothing.

This is where the couple remained, unmoving, until the paramedics found them four minutes later. Breaking into the house and then rushing into Jackson's room, two paramedics headed straight to Jackson's body, taking her pulse, though they knew it was hopeless, then performing CPR. A third lifted Nina by the elbows and led her downstairs, giving her a sedative. The fourth paramedic bent in front of Steven.

" Sir," he said, trying to get Steven to look him in the eye rather than stare into the distance, " How long has she been like this?"

Steven did not answer him.

" Sir?"

After several more attempts to question him, the paramedic gave up, joining the other two on the floor before Jackson. But it was too late. Moments later they declared Jackson dead. The one who had tried to talk to Steven took him by the elbow and tried to make him rise to his feet. Steven, his face blank, did so willingly enough, following him out of the room. The remaining two paramedics began to write up a report of the case.

Jesse Douglas, the younger of the two, shook his head sadly as his partner wrote. HE had seen this kind of scene way more than he would have liked. He would never understand how a person could do this to themselves. But if this girl's appearance was anything to judge, she had her reasons.

His eyes drifted to the dresser, noting the blood. Suddenly he saw something out the corner of his eye in the mirror. He looked up sharply, but as soon as he did, it was gone. It must have been my imagination, he decided. It hadn't been more than a flash, really. But for the briefest of seconds, Jesse had thought he'd seen the image of a girl in the mirror, a young girl with blonde hair.