Free Therapy Ever After (Therapy #1.5) by Kathryn Perez

imperative.
    I’m standing in front of the knob-less door, thinking. Maybe the knob is invisible. Nothing here makes sense, so that’s not far-fetched. I reach out and grasp air. I try again. It doesn’t work. I look around the room once more, hoping for a clue, but alas, there isn’t one. Maybe I should just push it? The idea gives me hope, and I reach out with both hands and push with all of my strength. Before I know what’s happening, I’m through the door and I’m falling. My stomach is in my throat and gushes of wind whirl around me. I scream in panic, trying to reach out and grab something, anything to brace the fall. I look up, and the bright light is getting smaller and smaller. Looking down, all I see is darkness. Everything precipitously slows down, like I’m in slow motion. The darkness below me parts like the sea and everything is crystalline. My feet touch down softly as if I was guided there.
    I’m now standing on a smooth glass surface, afraid to move. What if it breaks? Large rectangular mirrors line the walls and are completely surrounding me. I tiptoe ever so gently across the cold floor. I can see right through it. Beneath my feet is what looks like dark waters. I can see small currents rippling in it. The thought of falling through makes me uneasy, so I look back up. One of the mirrors looks almost liquid. It intrigues me. I walk over and stand before it. There’s no reflection when I look in it. Movement resembling rivulets of mercury wrinkle out to the edges continuously. I want to touch it. I don’t know why. As soon as my finger makes contact, a seizing feeling of heat radiates through me, but I can’t pull away. I watch as the wrinkles still and the mirror before me transforms into what seems to be a portal of some kind. I jerk my hand back, but I’m transfixed. It’s me I’m looking at. I’m on a bed, crying. The memories rush back to me, and it’s as if it’s happening all over again, but this time I’m not only feeling it, I’m watching it from the outside looking in. I try to look away.
    “No, Riah, watch,” a deep voice says from behind, startling me.
    I try to look behind me, but I’m frozen.
    “It’s of no matter who I am right now. Just watch,” the voice says, as if having read my mind.
    I don’t try to argue. I obey the strange voice. I watch my very last moments on earth as I bleed out every drop of pain I ever felt.
    My legs weaken and I fall . “What’s happening?” Where am I? Answer me!” I scream.
    I wait for the voice to answer, but there’s only silence. I look back to my limp and lifeless body in the mirror. I want to pick me up. I want to hug me. I reach out, but I can’t reach through. I tap the mirror lightly with my finger and it cracks. The crack spiders, and in an instant it shatters into a million jagged pieces, falling all around me. Nothing’s left but a black hole where the mirror once was. I look to the next rectangle. I’m too scared to stand before it and see what it holds inside. I don’t want to see anymore.
    “Go, Riah. Every mirror in this room leads you closer to the key you want so desperately. You have to look into them all before you’ll be able to find it.”
    It’s like I’ve climbed a steep mountain, made it to the top, and then tumbled back down to the bottom without ever taking the time to enjoy the view while I was up there. I was too busy falling to see the beautiful landscape that was my life. Fear overwhelms me as I begin drowning in a pool of desolate regret. The further I sink, the closer I get—to what?

    Nervously, I touch mirror number two, and oddly it brings me back to the white room, where I find myself sitting beside the tall stack of blank papers. Nothing here makes sense.
    “Take a paper, Riah. Take the pen too. Go back to the room of mirrors and watch. Then, I want you to write about what you see.”
    I turn my head to the right and then left.
    “Who are you and why do I have to do any of this? What