I have to say, Harper, I think this is quite possibly the worst idea you've ever had.

I can't help but shake my head as I slide my pistol out of its leather sling, tossing the sling back onto my bed as I point the barrel at the ground and stalk towards the bathroom.
Then again, I can't afford to waste any more time and leave Harks' evaluation up to luck... I have to do something.

A sigh escapes my lips as I step into the bathroom and turn to look at my reflection in the mirror. A stone-faced girl looks back, her dark hair disheveled and frizzy with stray streaks of hair fanning out on the sides of her cheeks. She wears an ash-colored turtleneck, with a silver necklace looped around her neck.

A gust of wind whistles through the cracked glass door behind me, sending a violent shiver coursing up my spine. I set my gun down on the marble of the sink and walk towards the glass door, pulling it shut so the wind can't seep through.

I quickly walk back into the bathroom, but freeze when a light breeze still brushes underneath my hair and across my neck.

When I glance back up into the mirror, a familiar dark figure stands behind me. I quickly step back and clasp a hand to my mouth as I take in his glowing cobalt eyes, which are fixed on mine.

"Please don't do this now," I grit out, shoving a hand through my hair as my eyes quickly dart away. Maybe I'm just seeing things... maybe he's not actually there.

I peek back into the mirror, hoping that his figure has disappeared, but let out a strangled breath when I see that he's still standing there.

Do you not love me anymore? His soft voice echoes through my mind, gentle... just like it used to be.

My fingers curl into fists as I lift my chin and force myself to stare into his hauntingly blue eyes. "I've never stopped," I admit, though all the fight dissipates from my body when I see him draw up his hand and place it on my shoulder... when I can feel the ghost of its weight.

I suck in a shuddery breath as I close my eyes, my body relaxing into his familiar trust.

So how come you are still drawn to him? He asks, his fingers tensing slightly.

"Who?" I ask, my voice cracking on the word as my skin begins to burn beneath his touch.

You know who I'm talking about, the one who brings you pain with merely his touch.

"It's not his fault," I state, my eyes flashing open as I force myself to meet his ocean-like eyes again, a raw feeling of anger slithering through my gut. "You're the one who causes that."

Ah, I see. So you blame me, don't you?

"I don't want to!" I snap, gasping when the fingers on my shoulder move to my waist. "I don't understand why you have grown so angry and possessive! Y-you were never like that when you were..."

Alive? His voice growls, his fingers digging into my hip as his other hand reaches through me and latches onto my lungs in warning. Do you not think that I have a reason to be angry with how I left this world? How you couldn't save me?

"I-It wasn't my fault!" I cry out fearfully, the hands on my hip and lungs stiffens.

Is that so? The voice asks curiously, before the figure behind me disappears, and his face flashes through my mind. Perhaps you need to be reminded of that days... events.

"No-please! Don't do this!" I gasp, stumbling back as my vision begins to blur, and the wail of a siren can be heard in the distance.

Too late, the voice laughs. I think it's time that you remembered.

"I don't want to!" I cry, slamming my hands to the sides of my forehead as I desperately suck in breaths to try and calm myself.

Oh, Harper... your insolence has gone on long enough. Perhaps with this reminder, you will remember yourself... your true self. The voice cackles, but I shake my head and grit my teeth as I press my hands deeper into my temples.

"No-no. I'm not going to remember." I snap, drawing my attention from the dark voice and towards the first thing that pops into my mind.

I have to distract myself!

The idea of Beau's cello music pops into my mind, and I imagine Beau before me, a slight smile on his lips and a bright spark in his pale eyes as he draws the delicate fibers of his wooden bow across the cello, coaxing a playful melody from the strings.

I force all of my attention onto Beau as he pleasantly continues to gently drag the bow across the metal strings.

But an outside force shatters any semblance of peace, as his voice jolts through my consciousness. I KNEW IT! YOU DO SEEK HIM YOU LITTLE BITCH!

I feel my teeth grind together as I shove away his enraged voice and focus my mind back onto Beau and his cello.

"I want you to go away," I order him as I feel the shadow of him lurking in the back of my mind, breathing deeply as I continue to focus on the earthy melody of the cello.

You want the love of your life to go away? His voice asks softly, all of his rage replaced with disbelief.

My heart lurches painfully in my chest at the tone of his voice, but I stand my ground. "I said, I want you to go away."

I hear him suck in an inraged breath, but to my suprise, he relents.

As you wish.

My eyes flash open when I feel that he's fully gone. I look around me to see that I have fallen to a heap onto my bathroom floor, noticing that I must've knocked my pistol off the sink sometime during my attack.

I quickly grab the pistol and stumble to my feet as I press a hand to my forehead. I force myself to look into the mirror, surprised when his figure isn't lurking over my shoulder.

All of the coloring of my face has been sucked away, a ghostly white tinge on my paled face.

A tidal wave of fatigue washes over me, but I fight it away and lift my gun up to point it at the mirror, and through the mirror at me.

It's time to fix this, I decide, gritting my teeth as my eyes zero-in on the barrel of the gun pointing directly at me through the reflection.

I inwardly curse when I take an involuntary step back, the edges of my vision darkening while the blood in my veins freezes over. I can hear a gunshot echo through my mind as I begin to imagine that day, but I grit my teeth and force the bloody image from my mind.

No, I refuse to remember that.

While I fight to push away the vile memory, I attempt to draw my gun back, but my arm quivers as it resistantly remains straightened.

"Goddamnit," I grit out, my eyes narrowing as I focus on lowering the gun instead of the reflection of the barrel pointing directly at me. Still, I have no luck in lowering the gun or moving my paralyzed limbs.

I stand there, looming over the sink with my gun still pointed at the mirror as I try again to gain control of my arm, scowling when it still doesn't move.

God, I look so weird right now... if someone came into my room right now, they would surely send me to an insane asylum or something.

Then I freeze when there's a loud knock on my door.

"Harper, are you ready to go out now? It's 4:45!" I hear a light voice say, and I recognize it as Amber's.

"The hell?" I mutter, automatically willing my hand to check the time on my phone. When it doesn't move, my scowl deepens.

"Okay, I'm coming," I yell, frustratedly trying to lower the gun. It tilts down slightly, but I can hear Amber impatiently tap her foot on the other side of my door.

What if she comes in? What if she sees me like this? Damnit damnit damnit!

I grunt as I continue trying to force my hand down, a chunk of hair falling into my vision as all I do is end up making my hand tremble even more.

Think Harper... think.

I try to do Rene's exercises of controlling my breathing, or describing objects around me, but they don't work.

"Damnit!" I snap frustratedly, shaking my head so I can get the annoying strands of hair out of my face.

"Harp? Are you okay in there?" Amber yells, causing me to jolt slightly.

"Yeah I'm just... doing my hair!" I yell back, before turning my attention back to the gun in my hand.

Suddenly, an idea flashes through my mind as I think back to a few minutes ago... and how thinking of Beau playing his cello helped me get rid of his control over me.

I close my eyes and imagine the cello again, but for some reason imagine Beau's mother playing it instead, while Beau sits at her feet.

I feel my limbs lighten as my mind's eye takes in the passion on Beau's mother's face, and the innocent expression of awe in his eyes. I imagine the light rhythm of the cello floating through the room, swelling in my ears as I feel myself lower the gun in my hands.

My eyes flutter open, and to my relief, I can move all of my limbs once again.

"Oh thank God," I breathe, shoving a hand into my hair as I look at myself in the mirror. I can't help but cringe when I see that it looks like a bird's nest, but I know that if I don't let Amber in the next five seconds, she'll bust down the door.