Chapter Text
Like every day, looking and reflecting, maybe one day someone else will be able to understand that feeling, his body is falling asleep in this useless attachment to life, the sound of the machines connected to his body and the bandages on his face cover part of his face, the phantom sensation of his amputated arm returns with that characteristic pain, he cannot hide what is reality, his legs become numb with each passing day and in this bright room there is no love, the truth is that he hates to see the summer arrive, he can see people in the hospital yard, he touches the bandage on his face to confirm that it is real, he has lost his right eye, little by little it disappears.
Wilt always stares at that bird in that tree, that white barn swallow that always stares at him and he observes this bird from his confinement, in this white cage, in these robes of broken oaths, in this sensation of death and murmurs, sirens that sound constantly and footsteps that hurry, lives that come and go.
— When will my time come? — He murmurs in the silence of his aisle and stops in front of this window, letting the fresh air enter his lungs.
He fears that the moment will come where he envies the people who can still walk, holding tightly the IV pole that carries the blood that keeps him alive and sometimes he wonders why he doesn't just end all this, perhaps he feels like he must indulge the fantasy that one day he will be able to be cured and make good on the money his family has wasted for so many years, those chains enveloping his entire body continue to tighten, with each diagnosis that gets worse and each doctor who still can't give a faithful diagnosis, there is nothing concrete and although he have already understood it, it still hurts so much.
The nurses who are finalizing the arrangements for the new room to which he has been transferred without prior notice show their heads to see him still stopped in that open window that shows a world that he has not known and the young man only gave them a glance, waiting for an answer, waiting for the inevitable and the loneliness that will return to be his reality, another room, another cell. And he walks slowly, shuffling his feet as if he could really avoid fate, he stands still in the doorway of the room.
— Who brought this mirror? — He can hear a nurse ask.
— I suppose the previous patient could have left it behind accidentally, his family took many of his belongings after his... — The nursing assistant stopped herself when she noticed Wilt's gaze on her.
— You can leave it, I don't mind — He lies with a smile that tries to calm the others.
Death is still felt in this place, he is more and more convinced that he is going to die, every day closer to the end of this inglorious path, of this battle towards death and he only smiles trying to be optimistic and pretend that the shadow of the grim reaper on his shoulders does not flood his thoughts and snatch his ground in the middle of the nights, that pain deep within himself, that false laughter will turn into tears.
When they finally leave, he stays lying on that bed, as time goes by he gets up, walks around it, looks out the window, sits back down on the bed and realizes that it's the same thing, there are no places to flee to, not even his imagination cooperates after so long. There are no more places to escape, fantasies no longer exist and he returns to look through this new window for an opportunity he knows doesn't exist, he even ignores the sensation of pain in his legs.
— Hey, Wilton! Cheer up! Your family has come to visit you — One of the nurses exclaims happily, she is always in a good mood and tries to cheer up her patients.
— Alright
— Don't say it with that tone — She says with a big smile as she approaches and helps him take a seat on his bed again, she lowers the curtains and turns on the lights.
From the moment the fresh air disappears and the vision of the patio disappears, he can feel that life returns to its course, everything continues in its painful transition towards death and sitting there on those white sheets he waits, waits for what he knows will come, another disappointment for his parents when they see him in the same state in which they left him weeks ago, their visits are becoming less frequent and he understands it, he will never be able to complain about any decision they make, he owes them more than his life.
— It's a nice day for a visit, just press the button if you need assistance, don't hesitate to call me — The health professional sounds so full of life and Wilton envies that.
The figure of his parents entering the room at the same time that the nurse leaves to leave them alone is crucial, he does not wait for the classic false presentations of happiness, who would believe that in the past his smile used to be so wide and his light so bright that everyone turned to look at it, now their looks are full of pity.
— Where are my brothers? — He asks although he already knows the answer, he knows that they avoid him out of resentment from years of lacking and pain.
— Busy... You know, your brother has gotten married and your other brother has been accepted into a good university, we are glad that he has strived for a full tuition fee — His mother responds with a certain pride tainted with sadness.
— Otherwise we couldn't afford to send him to university, we couldn't do it with your older brother — His father adds reluctantly, seeming frustrated.
— It's my fault, the hospital debts...— He says what they want to say, what they imply.
The silence that falls on all the participants in this conversation is so dense that it could be devoured like a cake, that knife is dripping blood on the white floor and the young man only holds his long red and fluffy hair that weakens with time, which falls with every step.
— It's not like that — His mother tries, but in her words he can feel that feeling of accumulated anger.
— We had to change your room for something cheaper and the new health insurance from your mother's second job has managed to get this private room for a while, we'll see what the future will look like — His father interrupts the condescending attempt that goes nowhere, never gets anywhere.
— Thank you, it's okay. You can go now, I know you're busy.
And before he can finish that sentence they leave, the disinterest is so obvious and easy to expect, but he understands it, he deserves it and accepts it. He doesn't call any nurses, he doesn't want to bother anyone and he sits there staring at a wall for hours, night falls and he can hear the morning shift changing positions with the night nurses.
For a second his eyes connect with that mirror, he can't hear any sound in the hallways, there is nothing to hear and nothing to do, it repeats itself almost like an echo for some reason and Wilt gets up with a strange feeling running up his spine, almost as if a voice was calling him from the mirror. In this mirror he looks at his reflection, there is nothing strange, it is just himself.
— When my light goes out, it won't come back on and there will be no lies, I will finally be able to leave the hospital — He murmurs suddenly without being able to avoid it.
Even if he smiles again he feels that he cannot forgive what happens inside his heart and when he tries again to pretend, laugh, laugh, laugh... One day he will leave this place, he will no longer have to lie and the wait hurts when he cannot forgive himself, in this loneliness his cruelest thoughts swirl and in the middle of the night they seem to trap him in a whirlpool of despair.
However, upon looking at himself for a long period of time he realizes that his reflection does not move according to his body, his actions remain trapped in a stoic and cold gaze, as if he were being judged by his own reflection, he holds his head to try to stop that feeling and a tear falls down his cheek.
— Pathetic — Express that voice identical to his from inside the mirror.
The man who is hospitalized loses his balance due to the sudden surprise, the IV pole falls to the ground with a horrible crash and what seems like a deep silence continues, no one seems to realize what is happening.
— You are confused and trapped, we are trapped, aren't we? — It comes from the mirror once again.
A peculiar and sweet smell is brought by a floral breeze that escapes from this mirror, from a dimension beyond his understanding. Trying to maintain his composure, he coughs painfully as he manages to stand up once again.
— You see, no one will come to help you and I am here. Come closer, William — The man in the mirror calls, that soft, subtle call.
Maybe it's unconsciously, but he can't move his limbs and they move on their own to get closer to this mirror, his movements try to stop, he can feel the pain of the intravenous needle that has fallen from his arm with the fall, the pain in his body is the constant that shows him that he is alive.
— My name is Wilton — He answers in a whisper.
— Unimportant variant — Says that voice when his fingers finally hit the glass.
All his worries and alerts light up when from the mirror a hand holds his arm tightly and drags him inside, he closes his eyes, he can feel something wet against his lips, something soft against his skin and smell the fresh flowers of a unknown dawn, he opens his eyes due to the sudden brightness, he finds himself on his feet in a place he had never seen, a meadow so full of life, a door is open and showing the interior of what looks like a wooden house, the noise of people talking, of people laughing with familiarity.
Wilton touches his complete body, this new clothes on his body feels strange, comfortable and almost familiar, there is no pain... There is no more pain, the stump on his arm has completely healed and in the reflection a patch covers his injured eye, there is still sensation of that missing socket, but, there is no pain or discomfort and his body does not feel weak compared to a few seconds ago.
— Good luck, idiot — The entity in the mirror breaks his moment of internal happiness.
— Did you trick me?... Where am I? — Wilton asks in the midst of desperation, surprise and happiness.
So many complex emotions scream at the same time and even more so when he can feel his body finally responding to his commands, just being able to see black flowers and bees of the same color floating in this meadow of dreams.
— You were going to die anyway, I'm saving you the wait — It's the only consolation it gives him followed by such a gloomy laugh.
That brings him back to reality and he observes this demon with that huge mocking smile, Wilton tries to approach the mirror and with a smile so cold, so cruel from this man that he looks like himself, the mirror that breaks inches from his face and the fingers of his hand are cut with a piece of the glass that shoots out from the broken frame.
— Wilford! — A man shouts in the distance.
— Are you okay? — Another voice speaks.
Wilton is just in shock, his hand bleeds and it feels strange, it's not the same kind of pain as always, he just trembles as he watches these strangers around him look worried, there's something in their looks that he's not used to seeing in others and as they heal his hands, he continues to see it, there is...
There's... There is love for him.