Book Two Wylan: Chapter 13

The Man in the Mirror

Chapter 13: The Man in the Mirror

September 2013

Wylan heard Tamsin’s laugh before he saw her.

He wasn’t sleeping on the couch where he fell asleep, but instead was standing in front of the mirror in the downstairs bathroom, soaked in sweat. His reflection wasn’t alone. Tamsin, her eyes ungouged and her throat unpierced, stared back at him, gloating.

“You thought you got away? Think again,” Tamsin giggled. “It takes a lot more to kill a fae than your pathetic attempt.”

“This isn’t real,” Wylan said, fiercely shaking his head. “This isn’t happening.”

His skin wasn’t just hot and itchy anymore. It felt like his skin was turning inside out. He wanted to scream.

“Of course it is, you silly boy!” Tamsin beamed. “You’ve wounded me in more than one way, and now you’re going to pay for it. We’re coming for you. Starting with that one,” Wen’s face appeared in the mirror. He looked like he was being tortured.

“You’re never getting out of this mirror!” Wylan seethed. He picked up the heaviest thing in sight, a hairdryer, and bashed it into the mirror over and over until both it and the mirror cracked.

Destroying one of the mirrors wasn’t enough, though. Any of them could be turned into a portal. He’d need to wreck every mirror in sight. Maybe even the ones in Wen’s car. He’d start with the upstairs bathroom by Wen’s bedroom.

“What did I tell you?” Tamsin threw her head back and laughed. “You’re not safe here. You’ll never be safe anywhere.”

“STOP TALKING!” Wylan snatched Wen’s ceramic toothbrush holder and slammed it into the glass with all of his might. “YOU’RE DEAD, YOU BITCH. DON’T MAKE ME KILL YOU AGAIN!”

The toothbrush holder broke, but it barely cracked the mirror. Wylan watched it cut into his hand without feeling it. He grabbed a brick-like bar of soap and grasped it hard in his cut hand. His blood splattered and smeared as he smashed it into the glass.

“YOU’RE NEVER GETTING THROUGH HERE! NEVER!” He smashed, smashed, smashed the soap into the glass.

“Wylan!” Wen’s voice cried out from behind him.

Wylan wouldn’t let his brother distract him from the job at hand. Especially not while their lives were in peril.

Wen reached for Wylan’s arm and held his elbow.

Wylan wrenched it away. Wen was stubborn though, and kept grabbing him.

Wylan took in the mirror’s damage. It wasn’t as cracked as he wanted it to be, but only his fractured, fragmented reflection stared back at him. Tamsin was gone. But he hadn’t won yet. There were more mirrors downstairs.

“Wylan, stop!” Wen demanded. “Stop.”

“She’s in the mirrors. She’s coming for us,” Wylan said frantically. His words rushed out of him in a single breath.

With his whole body tensed he sprinted downstairs for the next room with the mirror. The living room.

Then he saw it, glinting in the middle of the living room floor, right across from the couch where he’d been sleeping: his skeleton key necklace.

“NO!” Wylan screamed. He lunged for the silver chain. Swinging the key in the air, Wylan whirled on Wen, “Are you working with her?! Huh?! HUH?!”

“Working with who? You’re not making any sense, Wylan. It’s three in the morning again. This can’t keep happening,” Wen said, blinking his tired blue eyes. “I need you to take a deep breath,” Wen imitated how to do it, “And tell me what’s happening.”

“SHE’S HERE! AND I NEED TO STOP HER!” Wylan pulled the necklace on. The key thudded over where his heart was pounding.

“It’s been three days since you’ve taken any drugs!” Wen said, “This is probably one of the side effects! Just like the purple boogers you’ve been having.”

Fuck me. What I’d do for drugs right now.

Wen wove around Wylan and stood in front of the mirror. He threw his arms out, blocking Wylan.

Wen wanted to play this game, fine. Wylan would go to the Midnight Market again. Get something to take the edge off. Let Tamsin bust in and have her way with Wen. Wylan whipped away and sprinted for where Wen kept his car keys.

“Where are you going now?!” Wen called out to Wylan’s back.

Wylan held up Wen’s keys.

“I don’t think so!” Wen reached Wylan inhumanly fast, closing his hand around Wylan’s.

Another fucking werewolf thing. “I hate you!” Wylan seethed.

“I don’t,” Wen said calmly.

“You don’t what?” Wylan snapped.

“I don’t hate you,” Wen said.

“Shut up!” Wylan shook his head.

“I don’t hate you, Wylan. I love you,” Wen said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Wylan objected. His eyes started to blur with tears. His throat constricted, and he swallowed thickly.

“I love you so much, Wylan,” Wen said soothingly.

Wylan shoved Wen, but Wen didn’t budge. “Shut up and get out of my fucking way,” Wylan cried. Tears were falling down his cheeks.

Wen opened his arms, and in what felt like slow motion, he embraced Wylan in a hug.

Wylan squirmed against the hold, thumping his fists on Wen’s back, “Please, please, please, just let me go,” Wylan wailed. He was crying harder now. He needed this to stop. He was in agony.

Only dust or pills would take it away. He needed it. He needed it. He thrashed harder in Wen’s hug, like an angry cat. He was even tempted to dig his fingernails into Wen’s skin. But at the last minute he didn’t. His moment of hesitation is where Wen won.

“Let’s sit down,” Wen said, finally releasing Wylan. Together, Wen maneuvered them onto the living room couch.

“I need it. Just let me have it. One more time. One more,” Wylan begged. It was starting to hurt to talk. His throat burned like it was being scraped with sheets of sandpaper. “A pinch of dust. Half a pill. Then you can take it away from me!”

“No fae drugs,” Wen said firmly. “You’re detoxing, Wylan, and you’re doing amazing.”

“Shut up,” Wylan croaked, suddenly desperate for a gulp of cold water. “I can’t do this anymore, Wen. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Just lemme go. Lemme go. I’ll fuck off and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“I let you go now, and you’ll end up somewhere dead, Wylan. You’ll OD. I just know it,” Wen said, for the first time looking distraught.

“Then it’ll be one less problem for you, yeah? I’ll be out of the picture, and you can keep on living your life like it’s all whatever,” Wylan sobbed.

“No, Wylan. I couldn’t live my life without you in it,” Wen said.

That was it. Wylan let himself collapse against his brother. He couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Everything hurt. It was excruciating.

“I’ve got you,” Wen said, hugging an arm around Wylan. “I’ve got you. We’re going to get through this together.”

Wylan cried until the heavy black of exhaustion and agony smothered over him, dragging him into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

***

The next morning, Wylan blinked his sore eyes open and woke up with a soft, colorful crocheted blanket spread out over him. He took in the soothing sensation. It was a welcome contrast to how it felt like his skin was being turned inside out and set on fire a few hours ago.

Did that really happen last night? Wylan mused. It felt like a blur. Like a memory from months ago. But the bandage that was wrapped around his hand was proof that yes, yes, it did. Wen must’ve dressed the wound while he slept.

“Good morning,” Wen said, walking into the room with a glass of water.

His werewolf-enhanced hearing probably tipped him off that I was awake.

“Last night …” Wylan started. I don’t even know where to begin. “It was a shitshow.”

“You’re going to have good days and bad days, it’s part of your recovery,” Wen said, passing Wylan the cup. “You could’ve run off on me last night, but you didn’t. I’m proud of you, Wylan.”

“That’s a stupid and dramatic thing to say,” Wylan said, feeling his sandpapery, scratchy throat tighten, and his eyes prick. No. He wouldn’t start crying. He clenched his hand around the ice cold cup.“You could’ve kicked my ass out, so thanks, I guess.” He drank the refreshingly cool water in a few gulps.

“You don’t always need to pretend with me, Wylan,” Wen said. “I want you to be happy. I really do. I want you to be happy and healthy more than anything. But you can’t get there if you’re constantly pumping your body full of fae drugs. I get that this is awful for you, but it’s temporary. You can live drug-free, and I mean really live, Wylan, because you chasing high after high after high isn’t living.”

“It’s whatever,” Wylan said, grabbing a handful of tissues to wipe up the purple snot that was starting to seep out of his nose.

“Why were you breaking the mirrors?” Wen asked.

“Why’d you go through my shit? Why’d you take it out of my bag?” Wylan countered, holding up the skeleton key hanging around his neck.

“I didn’t,” Wen said firmly. “It was probably Mary Shelley. Sometimes I think she’s got more dog in her than cat.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult? ‘Cuz dogs are awesome!” Wylan grinned.

“Agree to disagree,” Wen laughed. “Why were you so upset about that, anyway?”

Wylan struggled to put it into words as his stomach twisted. “It was … I used … I had … It just … It means a lot to me, okay? It was something I had while I was … away.”

“While you were in that fae world?” Wen asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Wylan said, picking at a loose thread on the blanket and staring at the carpet. How could he even begin to tell Wen about his time there.

He never actually fully talked about what he saw and did while he was in Tamsin’s realm, not to his grandparents. Not to his parents. Not to his boyfriends. Not to the therapists. And not to Wen.

And now twenty years passed. It felt too late to start now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Wen asked.

It’s like he can read my mind, Wylan shuddered.

Wylan wanted to say fuck no, but was surprised to hear himself say, “Maybe later.” He was even more surprised to realize he meant it.

“Get dressed. We’re going to the Happy Tails,” Wen said abruptly.

“What? So you can force me to scoop up dog shit?” Wylan asked dryly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already signed me up for that job.

“No, Wylan. We just had service week at my school, and my class did a food and toy drive for the cats and dogs at the humane society. They collected the most donations in the entire school. They won a pizza party for it and everything,” Wen said proudly.

“Super duper,” Wylan mocked, shedding his leopard print robe.

“It will be once I get the hundreds of pounds of all of it out of my car,” Wen beamed.

“Hundreds of pounds,” Wylan scoffed, following Wen out to his car.

***

At the animal shelter, while Wen and a small army of shelter employees were hefting massive twenty and fourty-pound bags of kibble out of Wen’s car, Wylan wandered off.

There was one door that, by the sound of muffled barking, led to the dog kennels. Another he passed contained a choir of mewling kittens. Their pitiful cries cut straight to Wylan’s heart, and he teared up again. Eager to go far, far, far, away from them and the memories they dredged up, Wylan scrubbed at his eyes and roamed deeper into the animal shelter. He passed through another door. The smell hit him first. Hay and wood shavings.

There were hutches with rabbits, and cages with guinea pigs and ferrets. It was one cage in particular that caught his eye. An orange hamster, his pink hands grasping at his white metal cage and little whiskered nose sniffing, was staring at him.

Wylan rushed over to the cage and gasped. The hamster was the spitting image of his childhood hamster, Mr. Cheddar Cheeks.

“He was brought back three times,” a voice behind Wylan said.

Wylan whipped around.

“This part of the shelter is off limits to visitors,” the guy wearing a shelter uniform said.

“Says who?” Wylan said.

“This,” the guy tapped a finger against the STAFF ONLY sign on the door. “These are our new surrenders. We have to quarantine them from the public until we’ve behaviorally and health tested them.”

“So why’s the hamster in animal jail?” Wylan asked.

“He pees and bites,” the guy said.

“Same,” Wylan grinned. A hamster after my own heart. “How much does it cost to adopt him?”

“For you?” The guy started, eyeing Wylan.

Please be less than twenty five dollars. Please be less than twenty five dollars.

“Five bucks,” the guy said.

“Deal,” Wylan said, sticking out his hand.

At the front desk, Wylan passed over the crumpled five dollar bill from his wallet, exchanging it for the adoption certificate.

“Where’ve you been!?” Wen demanded, rushing around the corner from the hallway that led to the kennels. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“We need to stop at a pet store,” Wylan said, holding up a small paper box with Mr. Cheddar Cheeks Junior.

There are just TWO CHAPTERS LEFT in Wylan’s story!

Freeing a peeing and biting hamster from animal jail might be just the beginning of Wylan turning his life around. What other shenanigans is he going to get up to next?

Find out next Friday July 10th in Chapter 14, “Wen and Wy.”✨🪞🗝️