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So you know the stereotype of a Swede having a short temper after the patience of a God? I've hit that short temper and now I need to vent and get advise. About five minutes ago, I was angry but I've calmed down now so don't worry that this is just a angry, rage filled rant.

This topic has already been touched on when I posted in a pet peeves thread:

At home, when I was seven my Dad divorced my Mum. He had an affair, so it left me with my big sister and Mum left at home. So of close, we've all been rather close. But in order to cope with what happened, she matured very quickly and I remained a child (whom by family decided to baby). That's where it started with my sister talking down to me. And I don't mean down like teacher to student - I mean like superior being to a moron. At first, I took it as nothing. To be honest, I barely noticed. Yet it started to get worse and worse over the years.

She began to treat me like I was worthless. When I got in trouble, she wouldn't care unless it really screwed me over and even then, it didn't really matter. She's been told off for it countless times, but that's few and far apart when my Mum actually notices and since I only see Dad one three day weekend (friday night, saturday, sunday day), he never notices. But even then, it was only once every two weeks or so, meaning I didn't really feel effected by it. I was used to it.

But lately, she's been able to get away with it constantly. Every day it's gotten to now. Currently in England, March is a time that closes in with handing college coursework in and preparing for exams. I don't know whether it is stress from that or if she's on her period with a pretty nasty flow but it's never been like that before. She's in her second year, I'm in my first and she NEVER acted like this last year. It's gotten to a point where bullying could put it gently. And finally, my patience with her has worn thin. I often now fantasise about punching her around the face or in the gut. I even want to kick her in her knee at times. (My Dad has a genetic problem in his joints - the liquid that's there wears away occasionally and proves very painful. He has it in his knees and elbows, my sister has it in her left knee, I have it in my ankles, knees and left wrist. Being hit there cripples us like a hot knife through butter, especially if done hard enough.)

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not a violent guy. I oppose violence as much as possible. But to be fair, I'm just a bit bigger than my sister and I am definitely stronger than her. I could quite so easily give her a punch she won't forget. But that's against my moral standards. Normally when I get this angry, I take deep breaths so deep that it hurts my gut and that helps to calm me. But I really need better help with dealing with the constant ridicule and depreciation because of this reason:

Because of this constant put down, emotional and mental torment, I have discovered myself to become more violent myself. I become irritated quickly, I feel very angst y and crabby most of the time and I find it all to easy to want to punch people. I once back-handed my friend in the face because she wouldn't stop singing the same hook of a song over and over! I'm scared that I may become violent because of the constant bullying I get from my sister.

Also, telling my parents won't help. It stops her for as long as we're in the same room. Then she starts off with glares, then it gets verbal again.

So long story short, do you have any advise for how I can deal with this? And therefore, stop my own horrifying violent tendencies? A daim for everyone for gives just a little bit of help.

Set in 1950's Chicago America, Artan Rabbit follows the storyline of Artan Everette, a ridiculously bullied teen who goes to the extreme just to find one friend. Reviews, constructive comments would be nice too. Hope yer enjoy reading it.​

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JUST A BIG THING HERE THAT THIS WILL HAVE MORE TEEN THEMES SUCH AS DEATH IN IT SO IF YOU DON'T LIKE DON'T READ AND HELVETE, DON'T WHINE AT ME WHEN YOU'VE READ THIS THEN READ MY STORY AND SAID I NEVER WARNED YA. CAUSE I DID. RIGHT HERE.​

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With large glasses and ginger hair, Artan Rabbit, the poindexter with a timid personality and charitable clothes is the most disliked one in his high school....

Walking down the corridors, every step was frightful. His eyes cast at the floor a few steps in front of him, careful to avoid the path of anyone who was walking towards him in order not to spark a fight. At times he was glad for his slightly longer hair, his bangs able to cover where his eyes were so it would be impossible for him to make awkward eye contact with anyone about. For once this week, Artan Everette began to cling to the hope that he wouldn’t be shoved into a locker that morning - the bruises from yesterday’s beating were especially bad; he had his fingers trapped in the door before he could yank them away, leaving his left hand bandaged and bruised.​

​

Unfortunately for the teen, luck was not on his side as turning a corner; he walked right into the one boy he didn’t want to see that day, that week. Heck, the rest of his life!​

“Heeey, lookie here! It’s what the cat threw up!” A large muscular hand was swift, grabbing Artan’s collar as he attempted to turn and run away from his bullies, to pull him clean off the floor. He barely had a second to scrabble at his shirt buttons to pull them open before he would be choked. “You look pretty bad there, rabbit. A bit pale too. You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Oh wait, who cares?!” A chorus of laughter echoed down the corridor as everyone stopped to point and laugh at the misfortune of his current predicament.​

...and the fashionable teenagers at his school made fun of him for that...

“Pl-Please c-can you p-put me d-d-down...?” Artan barely breathed yet the oversized wall of meat that was head of the football team was able to hear it through the laughter. It was like he was constantly tuned in to wanting to make his life hell. “Whaaat? And spare you a beating?” Like magic, the corridor went silent as everyone became curious on the jockey’s answer to this question. “Pfft, rabbit, why should I do that? After all, everyone knows this is what your kind gets coming to you!” And so came the inevitable. Whilst his friends held open a locker, Artan found himself being crammed into it by a bully’s hand, his face being crushed against the cold metal inside. With no room for comfort, the door slammed and locked behind him during which the bell rang, signalling class. The corridors were emptied. Not a soul was about. Artan, cradling his now bloodied nose held back the familiar sting of tears as he began to attempt to work his way out of his metal cage.​

....because he’s also the most vulnerable teenager at school.

Blood ran into the sink as Artan hurriedly washed away the dried blood from his face. His nostrils were thick with it, him only able to smell that copper scent as he took a breath. Turning off the tap, the timid boy once again found himself staring, evaluating himself in the mirror. One look at his clothes, hair and glasses made his bully’s words echo in his head. “... Do I really deserve my beatings...?”​

Artan doesn’t have slim glasses that look cool nor fashionable clothes that are tight fitting like the boys who bully him. The nickname that was now cute had become an insult, a word tagged to what he was. Being called it was an offense.
Artan was truly the only rabbit in a den of foxes.

-iiiiiii-

“Wow! The moon is so bright over here Granny!”

Tonight is the third night since Artan Rabbit left America for England. It’s the time of year in the summer where for two weeks; his family would visit his Granny who lived across the sea.

“So when I asked them nicely if they would spare me that morning, they laughed and crammed me into the locker anyway, giving me a nosebleed...” Artan sighed as he nursed his cup of tea, his legs brought to his chest in an attempt to comfort himself whilst telling the tale of his harassment to his Grandmother. At 73, she was such a kind old lady who always listened to and looked after her only Grandson. The familiar smell of flowers washed over him as a hand was placed upon his shoulder, him turning to see the winkled yet smiling face of his Granny.​

​

“Artan, its times like these when the people who’re safe tell you that talking it out will work and those who aren’t will say fight back.”​

“And what do you say?”​

“Never change who you are. There will always be someone there looking out for you. Soon, someone will realise that you are you and they will love you for it. For the meantime, we must all face our hardships in life. After all...” She leaned closer, her smile turning sly. “...you’ll be laughing when you’re their boss as the CEO of a large company and they’re just your janitors.”​

A laugh was shared between the two, Artan definitely feeling better as his Father stuck his head around the door to announce that they were going out. Being waved off by Granny, their conversation continued, Artan taking a sip of his still hot tea. “Artan dear, aren’t you lonely by yourself?” This question took the ginger teen by surprise, him looking at his dear Granny with a surprise look. “...Not at all...” His gaze diverted back to the tea in his mug, watching as the brown water rippled, distorting his reflection. “My bullies, those popular kids and everyone else, if they’re just going to make fun of me then I don’t need them - that’s what Mum tells me.”​

​

“But what do you think?”​

“.... I want at least one friend...” That sting pricked his eyes again as the topic became more sensitive, not resisting as the mug was taken from his hands and arms wrapped around him, feeling breath of his ear. “If you hate the ones that make fun of you, then why not make someone who won’t?”​

“...Huh...?”​

Ever since Artan Rabbit was little, he and his Granny shared a special secret: they could use magic.

“Take a mirror and on the full moon, leave it out underneath the rays where it will catch them from nightfall to dawn.... Offer up your flesh and blood to that mirror every morning without fail until the next full moon....​

If you do that, then your friend will probably come out.”

Underneath the thick covers in the spare bedroom he slept in whilst visiting, Artan gazed out the window thinking over what his Granny had told him beforehand. His glasses removed, the blurred edges of the moon shone white light onto his tired frame. ‘It would be nice to have a friend...’​

That night, Artan Rabbit didn’t go to sleep until late...
Those words that Granny had told him stayed in his mind until he went home.

Coughing heavily, Artan dragged the dust covered cloth from covering the old mirror in the attic in order to see it. Bucket and sponge on hand, the boy rolled up his sleeves, submerged the sponge in the soapy water before beginning to clean the tall mirror carefully. It had been part of the family for years yet no one wanted it nor could they sell it. Now it was serving a purpose.​

The dirty and forgotten mirror was now cleaned till it sparkled; the excitement of what would happen soon built up inside of the boy.

It was there a few hours later in a now cleaned attic that Artan stood, pin in hand and index finger pointing out on the other. His whole body trembled like a rabbit’s would, him nervous about pricking his own finger. “If... If it’s for getting me a friend.... then... then I’ll do it....” Jabbing his finger quickly before he could change his mind, he watched as a bead of blood form upon his finger tip. It was then that he touched the mirror, his blood making a small dot in the middle of the reflective surface. ‘...I wonder if this’ll really make a friend come out...’ He mused as he sucked the hurt digit, roughly cleaning the blood away with his tongue.​

The next day, Artan feverishly read through his notebook full of copied paragraphs from his Granny’s old magic books; alone in the canteen, only one person looked on at him with an interest whilst the rest ignored the poindexter, chatting amongst themselves.​

And then, when the next full moon fell from the sky to break into dawn, Artan Rabbit sat in front of the mirror with a blanket draped around his shoulders with a sad look.

Cradling his hand that had been pricked fourteen times over harshly with needles, he felt like he wanted to cry. Granny’s magic hadn’t worked. There wasn’t any change apart from fourteen dots of dried blood along the top of the mirror. “Nothing’s changed.... I guess I’ll never have a friend....” Through the window behind him, the first light of dawn shone through and touched the mirror, illuminating the room about with the light. A yawn escaped Artan’s mouth, glad it was a Saturday. He could claim to be studying, lock himself in his room and sleep off his night that had been snatched away for nothing. ​

It was only when he began to bundle the blanket around him did he sleepily notice that there, right in his reflection, it sat in the same position as before. Blinking in confusion, the teen lifted his glasses to rub his eyes, only to look back at his reflection again with a look of utter bewilderment. His reflection sat the same, now smiling at him. “...What the...”​

“Hello.” Came the reply. Artan’s eyes widened in fear, him covering his mouth and backing right to the other end of the room in hopes of stifling the scream that begged to come out.​

​

Last thing he needed was to wake his parents and them to wonder why their son was in the attic at the crack of dawn when he should be in bed. Watching his reflection still, he was utterly shocked. His reflection hadn’t moved to the other end of the room like he had. His reflection wasn’t in shock. In fact, his reflection was laughing cheerfully before smiling at him happily. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”​

“...You... You... Y-You...”​

​

“Me?” The reflection asked, pointing at itself before seemingly looking about the room it was in. “What about me?”​

“You look like me!” Artan exclaimed, crawling back to the mirror to sit in front of it again. Nerves had disappeared in replacement of his curiosity, him shakily leaning forward to touch the mirror. The second his fingers touched the cold surface, for the first time in a few minutes his reflection copied him, now with a frown on his face. “DON’T.”​

Artan blinked again in confusion, feeling his nerves be shaken slightly from the nasty expression being pulled at him. “Why... Why not?”​

“Even heard the theory that you can’t get through the mirror because your reflection is in the way?”​

“Yes, I read it in a book somewhere.”​

“Well...” Words couldn’t explain what his reflection had to show. Using his other hand, his reflection touched the mirror on his side, only for his hand to come right through. The original gaped at the hand as it slowly slid back inside its own word, his hand resting on his lap again. ​

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“I could come through?!”​

“Sure. But wouldn’t that make a paradox of some kind? Meeting yourself?”​

“Good point.”​

“Mmm.”​

Large glasses and ginger hair...

“I want to give you a name.”​

His reflection looked up from eating the toast that Artan had brought in to eat before heading to school. “Why would you want that?”​

“I don’t like saying ‘my reflection’ or ‘doppelganger’. It makes you seem inhuman.” Artan replied before taking a sip of the orange juice he had also brought up to the attic. It had taken a lot of convincing with his Mum to let him not eat at the table. “A’ight then. Lay names on me.” Yet Artan didn’t need to think. In a book he had read at school, he had found a name he wanted for his reflection. “Christopher. What do you think?”​

His reflection gave him a strange look, him stopping mid bite of warm bread to silently ask ‘why that name’. “It’s because in school we read a story from Japan and the character in it was called Christopher. I liked the name so I’m giving it to you.”​

“Christopher... Chriiiiiistopheeeeeer...” His reflection swirled it around in his mouth, thinking about the name. “What’s it mean?”​

“I don’t know but I overheard someone say it was a prissy name or something...”​

“YOU’RE GIVING ME A PRISS NAME?!”​

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Artan sat there laughing as his reflection turned bright red, kicking up a fuss over it. In truth, it meant 'follower of' yet he decided to hold that from him. “But I like it.”​

“Huh?”​

His reflection sat there, a small blush across his cheeks. “I like it. You’ve given it to me and I can’t think of something better...”​

“Well then, Christopher is your new name!”​

Artan Rabbit wasn’t alone anymore.

“Nice to meet you!”​

“Same here buddy.”​

From then on those two, be it eating, playing or sometimes sleeping, they were always together.

“Christopher?”​

“Yeah?”​

Artan lay in front of the mirror, his duvet on the floor as a mattress and a thick blanket over him as he stared at his best friend, for once copying him in the old mirror. “Thanks for existing...” Christopher gave him a strange look before shaking his head and grinning merrily. “It’s your fault I do.”​

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing!” Laughs were shared before soon Artan fell asleep with the lantern blazing brightly beside him. Sitting up, Christopher hesitated before stretching over and out of the mirror, him removing the glasses from his rabbit to carefully place them beside him. Leaning back, he switched off the lantern’s gas before him too resting down to fall asleep.​

As the comfort of a bed became less used, Artan Rabbit felt his heart become filled with light.

“Artan! Help me with dinner later, okay?”​

“Okay mum! I’m going in the attic again!” Artan called back to his Mum before rushing upstairs towards the attic door. Earlier that day he had an amazing thought that he had kicked himself for not thinking of months ago when he had first created Christopher - it was such a good plan! Thrusting the door open, Artan dropped his bag before pulling the drape of the mirror to find Christopher stood there, reading one of the books had had left there that morning for him to read.​

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“Christopher!” Christopher wordlessly put up a finger in the universal sign for ‘one moment please’, forcing Artan to wait as his excitement bounced around in side. Slowly turning the page, his reflection pulled his glasses off his face to place on the book as a bookmark before putting it down on the floor. “What?”​

“I’ve just had the best idea today at school!”​

“Was it before or after your daily ass kicking?” That was one thing that his reflection knew that no one else did... besides everyone at school.​

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It was the third day of his existence did Artan come home covered in bruises with a stomach cramp from the punches. The second he walked into the room and revealed himself to his reflection did Christopher instantly feel the pain himself and pester the teen until he spilled all secrets and cried until calm again. “Actually, I avoided it today because there was a huge game on earlier so everyone who normally beats me up were practising running about and getting sweaty. I got it whilst the game was on and I was reading under the bleachers.”​

“Shoot me then.”​

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Earlier that day, under the bleachers, when their team had scored everyone had stood up to cheer. During that unfortunate moment, some girl’s pocket mirror had fallen down between the gaps to land on the book he was reading. At first, Artan had been surprised until he noticed his reflection - no other mirror apart from the one in the attic held Christopher and therefore acted like the average reflection, copying movements and such. He could only talk to Christopher when he got back home before dinner and at night. Even when he was studying, he talked to Christopher. Despite his immature nature, Christopher was actually just as bright as Artan and a great study buddy.​

But as he looked into that reflection of his, he had the thought - what if he could take Christopher about with him? Portable? Constantly by his side? As Artan relayed his ideas to Christopher, he watched as his reflection’s face turned from disinterest to amazement. “...and after that, I went to the store and bought one of those pocket mirrors so you can go into it!”​

“What about the girls? You could have just taken hers.”​

“It had makeup all over it and if I took it then had it out at school, she could see and take it, therefore you, away from me.”​

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Christopher nodded in thought before tapping his pocket, feeling the weight of the pocket mirror in there. Taking it out, he observed it carefully. “Well, it may be a bit cramped but...” He trailed off, looking at Artan’s puppy-eyed face. Damn, how he hated that face. “...I’ll do it. So long as I can go back here when you get home otherwise I’ll be pissy.”​

“Deal!”​

From then on, wherever Artan Rabbit went, Christopher was always in his pocket with him. No one noticed the strange nerd who had a pocket mirror that he spoke to occasionally. No one cared. Except for one...

“Copy me Christopher! We don’t want anyone seeing!”​

“I can’t help it. I get cramped in that tiny little thing!”​

Artan was brushing his hair, attempting to set it right in the changing rooms. He had been the first in to sneakily put Christopher within the full sized mirror along the wall so he could stretch out and be comfortable for awhile. Now that the other boys had come in to change, he was thankfully being ignored by the ugly, burly mess that made up the male population of his school as they whacked each other with wet, wound up towels. Artan was the only one dressed. ​

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“No! Please make your hair look like mine for now! Change it back later!” Artan whispered with annoyance in his tone, him noticing how even though Christopher was finally copying his movements, his hair wasn’t in the right place at the centre of his forehead - it was at the right side of his head. “Well excuse me for liking my hair this way.”​

“Change it back! Do you want people to notice?!”​

“No!”​

“Then don’t be such a dick!”​

“HEY RABBIT!”

And then, for the umpteenth time, it seemed that Artan Rabbit would be beaten up.

Hands suited for an ape rather than a Human grabbed Artan, spinning him around for him to face the array of half naked and bigger teenagers staring down at him with evil gleams in their eyes. “We heard you just then. Who’s the dick in there, huh?” Artan gulped, feeling a cold sweat from fear cover his body. “N-No one... J-J-Just talking t-to m-myself...”​

“HUH? Talking to yourself? What are you, some kind of freak?” The cold surface of the mirror was slammed against his face, grateful for Christopher stopping his blow.​

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Yet now against that surface, he could hear the muttering of his friend, sending various insults towards the bullies. Their reflections were hurting him too now but only they with their unseeing eyes could notice the hateful glare that was upon his face. Without a second thought, Artan carefully reached into his pocket and pressed the glass upon where Christopher was being held by reflections, knowing how instantly he would hop over to the other mirror to choose discomfort over a beating. “Weird nerdy freak, aren’t you? Can you now see why you get beaten up so much! You just give us an excuse!”​

“Let’s give him a swirly!” Someone shouted from the back. The ringleader currently pinning down the trembling teen obviously liked this idea as a horrific grin spread across his face.​

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“Hey Rabbit, you’d like that huh? I’ve been watching you talk to yourself for awhile now. Reading notebooks full of strange crap. You’re even weirder than we thought at first!” Leaning in, Artan wanted to gag from the smell of sweat on his body that now forcefully filled his nose. “You see, weird people like you don’t deserve to be here. Weird people like you don’t deserve to even be a part of society - heck, existence! You deserve to be bullied and beaten and punished until you die.”​

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Pulling him up, Artan was dragged across the floor as he kicked and wriggled from their grip, pulled out of the room towards the toilets for his punishment. Only one person remained in the room.​

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No one pushed around Artan Everette in front of them.
No one would get away with it.

Since that day, Christopher had changed completely...

“Christopher...?” Artan asked shyly, him sitting back in the attic with his friend in his rightful mirror. Only this time Christopher wouldn’t face him. Christopher wouldn’t speak to him. He sat facing the opposite way with his arms crossed on his chest. “Christopher, please... I know... I know I should be happy but... Do you know anything about them?”​

​

Artan had been drying his hair with a towel he always kept in his locker, waiting for the next class to begin so he could sneak back to get the bags that he had left in the changing room. Fortunately his pocket mirror hadn’t been stolen from his pocket, it chained to his belt even so just to be safe that it wouldn’t fall out. Christopher was being quite for once too, like how he would be when he knew Artan needed peace of mind and pretended to be an actual reflection again. That was when a girl had come down the corridor screaming before collapsing on the floor. Everyone looked, people swarming around, asking what had happened when through the sobs and hysterical wails, the poor girl finally screamed out. “They’re dead! Jason! Nick! They’re dead!”​

Someone had called the police sometime after that because within the boys changing room was a swarm of police and doctors, drawing lines, taking the bodies away and looking after the traumatised girl who had found her boyfriend and his best friend murdered. Someone had managed to see what had happened and relayed it to everyone, even people telling Artan from shock for someone to discuss it with. Blood was everywhere - up the walls, along the floor, everywhere. But the bodies weren’t there.​

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There would have been no witnesses to this crime unless anyone had come along. No one at all... Unless....​

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“Christopher, please!”​

“NO!”​

It was the first thing Christopher had said for almost two days. Artan had managed to go back in after the police had finished and cleaned up everything to rescue Christopher but even then, something seemed wrong. He seemed... different... As if he had left Christopher in the changing room mirror and picked up someone else - someone who wasn’t a friend. Artan flinched at the outburst, him staring as Christopher turned his head to look at him. “I don’t even need to tell you...”​

“But I-“​

​

“DO I?!” Artan fell silent as Christopher’s enraged state, him trembling like a rabbit would underneath those harsh eyes that fell upon him. Feeling his anger dwell, it eventually calmed as Christopher’s expression softened. “...I’m sorry.... But I really don’t know...” His statement was calm as finally he was back to normal. “I hopped over to your dinky mirror in that changing room. It couldn’t have been me nor could I of saw it...” The logic he used was all too right. Artan, and therefore Christopher, had been in the boys toilets during the murder. But the way that the bodies had been seen before them disappearing was all too strange...​

The bullies being left alone and they both being found dead, then not found - the times were only ten minutes apart each. “...I’m sorry Christopher... I... I just wanted to know....” Through his thick glasses, Artan looked away towards the gloom of the attic. With is attention diverted, why should he of noticed the strange expression his former best friend was pulling? “Is it such a bad thing that they’re dead?” This question floated around unanswered as the person it was asked to remained silent in thought. Eventually the answer came to mind, ignoring all moral and normal boundaries that the boy would usually follow. “No... It’s not...”​

​

“I’m glad I’m trusted in your eyes.”​

Christopher’s mouth became a bad mouth that spouted words Artan Rabbit couldn’t understand...

“What’s bothering you? I know something is. I can always tell.”

Artan was sat with his back against the frame of the mirror, feeling those strange eyes burrowing into him as his finger crew circles in a small patch of dust on the floor. He really needed to properly clean in here again. “...I’m worried Christopher... Lately, more and more people have been disappearing from school....” A shudder ran through his trembling frame as he began to recall in his head all of those who had disappeared. Brittany now made the eighth student to have gone missing. Apart from every body being found before them disappearing as the crime scene was inspected again, many students were stating to fall to paranoia, especially those unlucky enough to find the dead body.​

​

“I mean... God... I feel terrible at this...”​

“Tell me. I won’t judge you.”​

“.... I’m glad they’re disappearing.” Such a bold statement from such a timid boy. “I don’t get bullied so much now...”​

“And isn’t that such a good thing?” With a sigh, Artan turned his head lazily to look directly through the mirror to Christopher. “...Yes...” This answer made the ganger’s face light up. “Brilliant then! No need to feel sad! After all, just think about the pain and suffering those bullies must have experienced before Death! It’s like them getting a taste of their own medicine! Like what they did to you!”​

...What...?

“Finally they must have understood the pain and suffering they caused their victims to go through, especially yo-“​

“SHUT UP!”​

Both ginger twin sat shocked as they stared at the other. Only then did they both realise that it was Artan that had spoken. “....Just... Shut up... Not another word....”​

... and now after sewing it shut, it was alright again.

“Christopher?”
“....Christopher?”
“Christopher, I want to talk.”
“....Where are you...?”

Running his fingers along the smooth edges of his pocket mirror, he gazed into the reflective surface to see his own reflection copying him perfectly. As of late, Christopher had fallen silent more and more during school. Now it had gotten to the point where he paid no attention to him. Did he now think that he was no longer needed as the bullies were keeping quiet...?​

Christopher’s legs became bad legs that ran away from Artan Rabbit...

With a blissful stretch and shudder, Christopher’s face was set in a beam as he was released from the cramped spaces of the pocket mirror. Artan had missed the bus that day and had to walk all the way home, taking him over an hour to do so. “Man, I feel good out of that thing! Aren’t you glad to be home? Mirror Sweet Mirror, or Attic Sweet Attic for you. Right Ar... Artan?” Only then had Christopher turned to see the sadness that was plastered across his sweet creator’s face. “...What’s wrong Ar-“​

“I want you to stay in here from now on.”​

“WHAT?! WHY!?” The shouting made Artan flinch as slowly he began to back away from the mirror, the dust upon the floor cradling his worn trainers at each step they took. “I just want you to...”​

“That’s no reply! Tell me!”​

“I’m sorry.” Artan’s voice was monotonic. “I think I can hear my Mother calling me for dinner.” The rusted handle creaked as he opened the door and walked out. As he latch clicked, the screams and shouts from his best friend echoed in the wooden supports.​

...so he broke them and felt relieved again.

For the first time in months, Artan’s nights were spent in his own bed.

Poor Christopher.

Trapped in the attic above Artan’s head, he was fuming as his cold and soulless eyes pierced the wooden door that was flimsily made by Artan’s Father in order to keep the warmth in the house.​

​

“When will you come back?”

His bright ginger hair was now matted and falling out.

“I’m sure you will come back.”

Those large glasses were now cracked beyond repair, barely staying upon his face.

“I know you will come back.”

Everything that matched Artan Rabbit’s was all beaten up.

Covering his ears, Artan huddled up in his duvet covers as the silent whispers penetrated his ears even though Christopher was now confined to the attic and him the floor below. Christopher had wanted to be alone without Artan... He was simply getting what he wanted... Freedom from Artan....​

Christopher was a best friend created by and for Artan Rabbit.

For the first time in weeks since their split, Artan managed to fall asleep blissfully.

If he wouldn’t be the best friend that Artan had always wanted...

For the first time in weeks since their split, Christopher disappeared from the mirror.

...there was no longer a need for him.

-iiiiiii-

Walking down the corridors, every step was good. His eyes no longer cast at the floor a few steps in front of him, but now looked proudly ahead of himself as he occasionally apologised and excused himself as he wound through the throngs of students. His hair had been cut back so now his eyes were clear to the world. Even now, awkward eye contact didn’t exist for him and now for the fourth time that week, Artan Everette proudly new that there was no chance that he would be shoved into a locker that morning – those old bruises and cuts just scars of his past. His fingers had finally healed properly too yet he would still be shaky with writing.​

​

As he turned the corner to head to his locker, the luck of that morning wore off; he walked right into someone! Stumbling back, Artan instantly sent out a flurry of apologies as the girl he had knocked simply smiled and shook her head, saying she was alright. “H-Haa... I’m glad you are... I’m really sorry about that...”​

“No! It’s fine! I wasn’t really looking either. I got fascinated by that poster there....” As the girl turned to gesture, a look of confusion was struck across her face. As Artan had been (trying badly not to but unsuccessfully doing so)​

staring at her, he instantly noticed the change in her face. “What’s wrong?”​

“... The chess club poster is missing.” Cocking an eyebrow, Artan turned to look towards where the poster had been; across the hallway, between the rows of lockers next to the water fountain. He had only put that up yesterday! Where had it gone? “...Don’t worry.” With a timid smile, a small blush spread across his face as he turned back to the girl. “Some yob must have taken it down when you were distracted... Actually, I’m part of the chess club s-so I c-could...”​

Artan began to dither off into a mixture of embarrassed mumbles and awkward explanations to the girl about the club in question. In-between the lockers, no one noticed how his reflection upon the shiny metal was glaring at the girl with a horrid expression.​

​

Soap drained away into the sink as Artan finished washing his hands, him using a small towel from his bag to dry them. His mum had insisted he begin to carry more of them about and if it kept her happy, who was he to mind? Without second thought as his hands were dried, the ginger boy adjusted his glasses and made his way to the exit.​

But he stopped.

Alone in the bathroom, slowly from the corner of his eye did he look into the large mirror that hung over the sinks.​

He had no reflection.

Only his reflection stood facing its door within that mirror world.

And with each terrified blink he took

His reflection got closer...

And closer...

And closer...

Through the mirror did his reflection come. With a cold and clammy hand did it touch his face before both would lock around his neck in a tight squeeze. The crash of a bag falling to the tiles upon the floor echoed off the walls for no one to hear. The snap of glasses cracking as they slide from where they would perch on Artan’s face joined in chorus and left the rabbit staring blind. Lifted from the floor, lack of air fuzzed black dots in front of his face as soon enough the reflection’s face came into proper view within his short sight.​

​

Those eyes that once held love were now cold and violent.​

​

And with those eyes, came a cracked voice that echoed on the brink of insanity.​

“You are my number fourteen...”

I’m sorry...

Thirteen students that had been horrid bullies had disappeared before him. Thirteen students that had been horrid bullies to Artan had been murdered for him.​

I’m sorry Christopher...

Their faces stared down at him with agony in their eyes as through the glass he was slowly pulled by the doppelganger; the monster he had created.

Artan Rabbit himself doesn’t understand why things had become this way.
He had only wanted... NEEDED a friend...
And in his harsh state, he had abused that friend...

Not a sound came from his frame as through the mirror Artan was pulled by his doppelganger. Yet another clatter was heard, as into the sink clattered a small pocket mirror. As reflective surface and porcelain connected, the mirror shattered into disrepair.

Two weeks later, the search for the timid ginger boy had been called off. As his parents mourned the loss of their only child; so they did move back to England. Yet how funny is it that within the attic of that house would you find a mirror fastened to the wall. How funny, that in the middle would there be a crack.

How funny, would that crack distort you into looking at a monster.

Lonely Artan Rabbit.
All alone, just like before.
But much lonelier than then
As the dead can never have company