A black vehicle pulled into view. As soon as I spotted it, I knew it was an FBI-issued car. I’d become accustomed to that exact vehicle pulling into my driveway. The driver’s side door opened, and a moment later, there she was.

“Mom,” I said, the word coming out as a whisper. Was I really seeing this?

“Hi there, I don’t see too many FBI agents out my way. This must be pretty important,” Cain said as he wiped the grease off his hands.

“My name is detective Lawson, and this is my partner Hanson,” my mom said as she pulled out her credentials and flipped them open for Cain to see.

“This is not happening,” I mumbled as I watched the screen. Cain glanced up in my direction again, and I wanted to throw something at him. He was taunting me like a bad joke.

“We won’t take up too much of your time, Mister….”

“Buchanan. You go ahead and fire away. I’ve been livin’ here my whole life and my parents and grandparents before me. If there is anything I can do to help you out, I’m happy to answer.”

“Oh my fucking god,” I said as I watched the show.

He could’ve played the part of the friendly neighbor in any movie and would’ve convinced the Pope himself that he was a loving country guy, just living a quiet life. My mouth fell to the floor as the exchange continued.

“What the hell am I doing?”

Without wasting another second, I began screaming. I slammed the chains off the rails and hollered at the top of my lungs, but they never flinched. Whatever hole he had me in was unbelievably soundproof. That didn’t stop me, though. I continued to scream and swear at the top of my lungs long after the cars disappeared and the television screen went dark. I’d become the girl on the other side of the mirror.

I was no more than a reflection of who I used to be.

The door opened, and as soon as my eyes found Cain, I snatched the sketch pad off the floor and threw it at him.

“Why? Why would you show me that? Why do you want to hurt me? I don’t get you! You say I do, but I don’t. I’m nothing like you!”

Reaching for the paints, I brought them up to throw as well but stopped as Cain bent over and picked up the pad. He stared at what I’d been working on, and I was humiliated that he had been the model my mind chose to paint. His eyes roamed all over the paper before he looked up at me.

“This is magnificent,” he said, and I rolled my eyes, but the stupid butterflies fluttered around in my stomach regardless of what my brain thought.