![]() I’ve been sitting here for three days now, watching him sleep. Like he’d thrown himself through the mirror, not at it. When Shannon found him, he was splayed out on his stomach, head towards the closet door, feet towards the mirror. The Paramedic paramedic said he must have thrown his entire body at the mirror.īut I wonder about that. He was unconscious on the floor, surrounded by shards of broken mirror, cuts everywhere. The only one we left was in our closet, and Jack never went in there. We took most of the mirrors out of the house. How do you tell your kid you think he’s going crazy? He’s coming through and I can’t stop him.” When I asked Jack why he tried to break the mirrors he just shook his head. Each mirror was cracked, spiderwebbed at the bottom like someone had hit it with a rock. It was a typical elementary school bathroom: a row of urinals, four kid sized sinks and, above those sinks, four mirrors. Then we got the call from the school telling us that Jack was being suspended.Īfterwards, the Principal principal showed me the boys’ room. You don’t realize how many reflections there are in this world until you walk down a street and your first grader whimpers every time you pass a store window. He whirled away, yelling “NO! This isn’t your place.” Then he looked up at me, face white, eyes scared. We were going outside when he caught sight of himself in the mirror by the front door. “That’s not me” he whispered, “that’s him.” He shook his head, pointed at his reflection. I looked at the mirror, saw the two of us looking back. He dragged me to his closet door, sobbing about the boy who was watching him through the mirror. I sprinted up to Jack’s room, sure there’d be blood, but he was fine. Shannon and I were watching TV when we heard the scream from upstairs. Jack was four the first time he told me about the boy in the mirror.
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