Mind of Mirage | Teen Ink

Mind of Mirage

May 7, 2021
By yinire, Cataula, Georgia
More by this author
yinire, Cataula, Georgia
0 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
im pretty cool


Author's note:

I'm very new to this. I'm only in the ninth grade, and I absolutely love writing! I'm a mixed (Hispanic & Black) person of color, and I've been told I have a gift. I let my English teacher read one of my stories (A class assignment) and she loved it. She immediately came up to me and asked if I've ever been in any AP English classes, I shook my head. She told me how amazing my writing was and how she would definitely recommend me for advanced placement! Just today I gave my mom a short story of mine to read that I had for a class assignment, and she teared up. She had said that for my age, my writing was outstanding and how I should continue, so that gave me tons of motivation! Also considering the fact that the story she read had only took me about 45 minutes to an hour to write!

The author's comments:

Enjoy.

As the clock struck 6:00, the blaring sound of the alarm clock I had set on my phone rang my ears. BRAAP, BRAAP, BRAAAP! My eyes immediately opened as I struggled to click the snooze button. Ignoring the alarm, I steadily walked to my window, only to open my curtains. The sun beamed onto my freckled skin. After a quick yawn, I proceeded to head downstairs.

Arriving into the kitchen, I started breakfast, turned the news on, and drank my coffee in between. Several minutes passed while I began to set the table. The creaking of the stairs alarmed me that they were coming downstairs, well, my children of course. “Mommy!” they both squealed as they ran towards me. I love them so much. They’re my reason to hold on. They’re twins, one boy, one girl, 6 years old. I would do anything for them.

“Zoe! Wyatt! Good Morning kiddos!” I exclaimed. “What’s for breakfast mommy?” Olivia asked. I presented their plates to them on the table. “Bacon, eggs, and pancakes” I smiled. Before sitting them down I took the last sip of my coffee. “When you’re finished eating, come upstairs and get ready for school” I noted. Heading upstairs, I proceeded to get their clothes ready for school.

After they got onto the bus for school, I started to clean the house. My playlist began to play as I swept the floors, scrubbed the counters, vacuumed the carpets, did the dishes, and the rest you can only imagine. An hour or two passed and I eventually finished cleaning. I turned off my music, and dawdled along upstairs. Opening the door to my room I noticed the alarm, still ringing. Though I turned it off, I peeked at my screen. Thirteen missed calls. Before I could check who they were from I started to receive another call, but...from a different number. 

Picking up the phone, a woman began to enunciate. “Hello? Ms. Amspoker?” She questioned. “Y-Yes this is her” I mumbled. “Please come pick up your children, they’ve been suspended”. My mind raced in confusion after that sentence. “What? MY children have been SUSPENDED? What could they possibly have done?” I asked. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but you have to pick them up. Thank you.” The phone hung up. I would’ve never expected a call like this about my children. They’re always grand. 

I got dressed and washed up so I could head to the school. While I drove, my mind was still completely puzzled by the fact that I obtained that call. What could they have done, really? I finally reached the school, parked, and continued to go inside. The front desk was in a separate room, I had to sign them out. “Are you Ms. Amspoker? Well, if I pronounced that correctly”. I nodded my head as I gazed at the vivid screen to sign in. “..How long is the suspension?” I asked. “Ten days” she replied. The expression on my face caused slight concern on hers. 

Zoe and Wyatt appeared around the corner, eyes locked on the floor. I’ve never seen them like this, it hurts my heart. Before I took them out to the car with me, I asked what they did to get suspended, and before the woman could answer Wyatt interrupted. “We stole something from a teacher”. I turned to look at the both of them, something came upon me. “Why would you steal? Haven’t we talked about these types of things before?” I hissed. I don’t know why that made me so crazed, but something inside me knew that I wanted my children to be perfect, no blemishes. I quickly grabbed them and took them into the car. “Get in your car seats, seatbelts on, now”. I looked back at them, both saddened. “Mommy we’re sorry, please don’t get too mad at us..” Zoe pleaded. I ignored it all. All their comments, their remarks. I still don’t know why I feel like this, I’ve never been this mad with them. 

Arriving home, I unlocked their doors, opened mine and slammed it shut. As I walked inside, they trailed behind me. They spent hours begging for my forgiveness, but I wouldn’t budge. Every single thing they did after today ticked me off so easily. I spent so much time inside my room. It was almost like I began to isolate myself from them after that situation. A knock on the door startled me. “Mommy? Can we come in?”. Just hearing their voices angered me and put me on edge. “GO DOWNSTAIRS, NOW!” I commanded. I don’t know what got into me. Why am I like this? It all hurts, it’s all..so sudden..

9:00pm. I put the kids to sleep, and now I'm heading to bed. About 30 minutes into my slumber, I heard the creak to my door. A thump or two on the carpet. Rapid breathing then woke me up when I opened my eyes to Wyatt standing over me, sobbing. “Mommy please forgive us, we’re sorry!”. “Get out of my room” I growled. He then scampered out and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway. Laying my head back onto my pillow, I slowly fell back asleep.

In the morning, I woke up with a painful headache. I headed downstairs, turned the news on, made my coffee, same routine. But this time..I didn’t make breakfast. Zoe and Wyatt came downstairs in confusion. They claimed how hungry they were, but I was careless. I sat onto the couch and sipped my coffee as the news played. The day went by pretty fast, considering that I continuously forgot about my kids. I cleaned the house, made dinner, and put the kids to bed. I showered, got dressed, and headed to bed once again. 

Another creak and several footsteps awakened me. My eyes slowly opened only to see Wyatt again, standing over me. I looked to the right of him, something was in his hand. “Why don’t you love us, mommy” he mourned. My eyes widened as I identified the object that appeared in his hand. A knife. He jammed it into my leg and fearfully left the room. All I could hear were the laughs of Zoe and Wyatt, getting louder by the second. Following this, the affliction of the wound caused me to collapse.

Several hours later, I got up with a blurred vision. The blood was still spewing out of my leg as I observed my surroundings, befuddled as ever. Everything was still. After looking at the gash, it brought a late reaction. I then started to feel the pain coming through. I grasped my phone on my nightstand and dialed 911. No answer. I made an effort to call the number again when I started to receive another call. The ringtone of my phone made my ears feel like they were bleeding. My vision started to blur even more as I stumbled around my room. I answered the call to cease the ringing. “Hello!?” I wailed. “Monica..” the voice of a female whispered into my ear. “H-How do you know my name?” I questioned. The service on my phone was bad, I could barely hear her. “Monica, it needs to stop” she whispered once more. 

As I held the phone to my ear, I ran down the stairs. I still could barely see anything. The walls felt irregular, gritty, perhaps verily uneven. She gave me directions to a place downtown. I stumbled into my car, slammed my foot on the gas, and drove there. When I arrived, it was a tall building, maybe about 6 stories tall. I got out of my car and took a glance at the sign on the building. “Ramstown Therapy Center” I revealed to myself. I stood there in hesitation. A woman opened the doors to the building, guiding me to go in. I took her hand and headed to her office with her. She sat me down and asked how I was, it was a bit of small talk for a few minutes until she got to the point. “Monica, what have you been doing all this time..?” she asked in a concerned manner. “What?” I answered, puzzled. “It’s been years Monica”. After blinking a few times to fix my vision, I checked my hands. They’re wrinkled, old looking. I’ve never been so confused, am I going mad? “No..I’m a 23 year old woman.. I have two children and my name is Monica Amspoker..you’ve got it all wrong, you’ve got the wrong person.” I insisted. She shook her head. “No, Monica dear, you’re a 53 year old woman with dementia and schizophrenia that NEEDS to be taken into care..you deserve better than all this you’re going through..” She said in a perturbed tone. I shook my head back at her, aggressively. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no! You’ve gotten this all mixed up! Just a day or two ago I picked up MY kids from school! I have a house, a family, I have it all!” I weeped. 

She tilted her head at me, it looked as if she were holding back tears. “Monica, the “house” you’ve been living in is abandoned and has been for years before your time. You have isolated yourself from the world, all cramped up in that little home of yours just to be able to make your own imaginary...extravaganza out of it. The school you picked your children up from? Abandoned. You’ve been alone all this time, all these years. The car you drive is a broken down 1980’s mustang you used to drive. I-It’s a mess and has 2 flat tires and rust all over the roof and doors..take a look at reality darling..” she explained. The look I had given her was beyond me. I couldn’t even process half of it. “My...my children, where are they?” I asked. “Oh dear..” she replied, with a sorrowful expression. My eyes locked on her as I waited for an answer. “Monica dear, they’ve been departed for years. It’s all been one big illusion for you”. My eyes still locked on her, I blinked a few times. “...” No words could describe how I felt the moment that came out of her mouth. No. It can’t be. All these years have been a LIE? I got up from the desk chair I was sitting in. “You’re not real, this can’t be real!” I exclaimed. Everything started to become one big blur again. The disbelief I had in me, along with the complete confusion caused a struggle. “Monica? Monica are you oka-...” Everything faded. 

I woke up in a bed, my bed. The phone, on the nightstand next to me. “My phone..,” I murmured. I checked the time, 5:59. In an instant, it turned to 6:00. I sat up to put my slippers on up-till my alarm went off. “God do I hate that sound’’. I thought to myself. I ignored it. I strolled towards my window and opened the curtains. The sun beamed on my freckled skin. I unlocked my bedroom door to head downstairs. Walking into the kitchen I grabbed the remote, turned the news on, made my coffee, and cooked breakfast. After I finished cooking I set the table. Footsteps could be heard impending from the stairs. “Oh, the kids are up!” I grinned.



Similar books


JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This book has 0 comments.