Chapter 1: The Mirror On The Wall

Lena woke up to the muffled sound of her alarm clock blaring across the room. Her body felt heavy, as though every inch of her was weighed down by invisible stones. She groggily rubbed her eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her lashes, before glancing at the clock. 7:00 AM. She could already hear the distant hum of her parents' voices downstairs, talking about their busy day ahead.

She hated mornings.

The warm, soft blankets that had cocooned her through the night now felt like a trap, keeping her too comfortable in a world she wasn't ready to face. But there was no avoiding it. Not today.

She sat up slowly, the weight of her own body sinking deeper into her tired bones. The reflection of her own face in the mirror across the room only served to bring her more discomfort. Her pale skin, dotted with a few acne scars, looked almost ghostly in the morning light. Her thick brown hair, usually tied back in an uneven ponytail, lay flat and lifeless around her face. Her eyes were dull, too tired to fight off the memories of yesterday's cruelty.

School.

Lena could already feel the dread building up inside her chest. The day ahead would be no different from any other. The hallway chatter, the muffled laughter, the cruel whispers. She braced herself for it. For the sharp words of the popular kids, for the stares, for the judgment.

"Hey, look at the whale."

"Hey, Lena, you're gonna eat the whole cafeteria today?"

The insults were sharp, but it was the silence that followed that always hurt the most. The looks of pity, the stares of disgust, the awkward pauses when people saw her walk into the room. It never stopped.

Lena sighed and stood up, the floor cold against her bare feet. She pulled on her oversized sweatshirt—her favorite, because it hid her body—then reluctantly walked to the bathroom. The mirror in there was no better. Her reflection was just as unforgiving, just as cold.

"I look like a mess," she thought to herself, brushing her hair quickly with a comb.

As she finished up and prepared to leave the bathroom, she could already hear her sister, Emma, calling from downstairs.

"Lena, hurry up! Breakfast is waiting," Emma shouted, her voice dripping with the kind of fake sweetness Lena had come to dread over the years.

Lena sighed and trudged downstairs, trying to shake off the heavy thoughts that clung to her like a fog. She wished she could just skip today, but that wasn't an option.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the familiar smell of pancakes and bacon filled her nose. It was always a strange juxtaposition—her mother's cooking was delicious, yet it only reminded her of how hollow everything felt when she was surrounded by people who didn't seem to care.

Her parents were already sitting at the table, discussing something about work. When they saw her enter, her mother gave a quick smile, but it was a smile that felt more like an automatic reflex than a true gesture of warmth. Her dad didn't even look up from his phone. Emma, on the other hand, grinned maliciously.

"Morning, fatty," Emma smirked, her voice laced with mockery. She took a long sip from her glass of orange juice, never breaking eye contact with her older sister.

Lena's stomach dropped. She could feel her face redden as the words hit her like a punch.

"I didn't ask for a commentary, Emma," Lena muttered, doing her best to keep her voice even.

"Oh, what? You're still upset about the other day when I said you'd eat the entire fridge? It's true though, right?" Emma continued, chuckling to herself.

Lena just stared at her, trying not to cry. She wished she could just vanish. Her sister's cruel words stung deeper than anything else. At least the kids at school had the excuse of being strangers; Emma was family.

Her parents, as always, didn't intervene. They sat there, eyes fixed on their own plates, avoiding the uncomfortable situation unfolding before them. Her mother adjusted her glasses, then quickly took a bite of her toast, as though trying to pretend it wasn't happening.

Lena looked down at her plate, willing the tears to stay inside. She picked up her fork and poked at the pancakes, too anxious to eat. She just wanted to get out of there, out of this house, away from her sister's voice, away from the feeling of being trapped in a body that was never quite enough.

But the words kept coming.

"You know," Emma continued, taking another bite of food as if she were speaking about the weather, "it's so embarrassing. People at school talk about you all the time. You're so much bigger than the other girls, and you just… look out of place, you know?"

Lena's heart sank. Out of place. That's exactly how she felt, every day, every moment. Out of place in her own life, in her own body.

Why can't anyone just leave me alone?

Her mother sighed, finally speaking up. "Emma, that's enough," she said, but the command was weak. Her tone was flat. She wasn't angry; she was just... tired. Tired of all the noise that filled their house, tired of the tension that constantly hung in the air.

Emma just shrugged, unconcerned. "I'm just saying, it's hard for her, isn't it? You'd think she'd do something about it by now."

Lena pushed the food around on her plate, feeling the weight of Emma's words crushing her spirit. She didn't need to hear it from her sister—she knew exactly how she looked. She didn't need reminders.

Her dad looked up briefly from his phone, offering no more than a passing glance. "You should try working out or something, Lena," he muttered absently. "You're getting older, and you can't keep letting yourself go like this. You should have some discipline."

Lena felt her throat tighten. The last thing she wanted to hear was that her body wasn't good enough, not from her dad. Not when he barely looked at her. He was so focused on his work, so distant, and yet here he was, giving unsolicited advice that only added more weight to her growing anxiety.

She wanted to yell, to cry, to scream that it wasn't that easy, that she didn't need to hear these things, but all that came out was a shaky, barely audible whisper: "I'm trying, Dad. I'm really trying."

But her words fell flat. They were empty. Her family had their own lives, their own worries, and Lena was just a background character in theirs.

Emma snickered again, her smile widening. "Trying? Well, you're not trying hard enough." She stood up and gathered her things, completely oblivious to how much she was hurting her sister.

Lena felt tears welling up in her eyes but forced herself to blink them away. She couldn't cry. Not here. Not now.

With a shaky breath, she stood up from the table, leaving the food untouched. "I'm going to school," she muttered. No one answered. No one cared.

She made her way to the door, the weight of the day ahead pressing heavily on her chest.

She knew the bullies would be there, the stares, the whispers, and the laughter. But right now, all she wanted was to be invisible.

She had a long road ahead of her, and the mirror reflected nothing but someone she didn't want to be.