On the outskirts of the city, where the wealthy resided, were large mansions in small neighborhoods. Each mansion was spaced acres apart, with green lawns taken well care of by low class workers. Inside the largest house of the neighborhood is a bedroom at the top floor. The room is vacant, its walls painted a deep burgundy. The only piece of furniture in this room is a king sized bed, with two huge pillows as soft as feathers. It was a plain bed, with no head post protruding from the end of it. It was simply two mattresses stacked on top of one another. On this bed there is a young virgin who lies on one pillow and hugs another. She has been up for three hours now, shivering in the cold and vacant space. Even though there are plenty of sheets on the edge of her bed, she chooses not to warm herself. Her bare legs are wrapped around her pillow for comfort, her caramel skin covered in goose bumps. In her mind, she escapes from a disturbing reality.

Moving her long jet black hair from her face, she reads the clock. It’s not even noon yet. She thinks to herself. She can’t feel the pain in her chest anymore. She can’t feel anything, only the imaginary touch of his fingers on her skin. Even though she wills herself to become stronger, she never does. The strength and energy that she had once known was taken away from her. She was told that she would never get it back, but she still believed she could. Her small, cold hands come to her face, which was just as cold as her fingertips. Her fingers slide down to her throat, warm and pulsing. Her mouth was slightly opened with her teeth clenched. Blood trickled from the corner of her open mouth, and stained her pillow. D*mn. With that thought, she got up to gaze out the only window in the room. The streets were empty; the two cars in her driveway were gone. She wipes her mouth with a white towel that was given to her yesterday. As much as she wanted to cry, she didn’t. So she plopped back on her bed, willing her mind to take her somewhere else.

Invisible to human sight, a girl who was identical to the young virgin laying in her bed sat on the floor. She was in almost every way a reflection of her, the wavy black hair, the caramel complexion, the long muscular legs, and the small fragile hands. But when she looked up, her eyes were an unnaturally pale blue. If one were to gaze into them long enough, they could also see the blotches around her pupil, each a different color. She preferred people not to look into them, because they could never classify the color of them. The reflection of the virgin, sitting on the floor of the vacant room was biting her black fingernail impatiently, waiting. She only had to wait a few more days for her to catch up, but she still stared at her curiously. And her thoughts came not with a sense of pity or compassion, but annoyance. She stood up to get a better view of the virgin, whose eyes were brown and normal. She thought about how stupid she was for feeling that she was alone and that no one else could understand her. She smiled and thought to herself, revealing a set of perfectly aligned teeth. Almost there.