Ep.1: Cracked

The Truth About Sadie Wilkins: Welcome to St. Marguerite's

Jan 13, 2025

"I knew it was me when I looked in the mirror. The thing is, I didn't feel any connection to my reflection."

"Is this the first time you've experienced this sensation?" Dr. Lee raises an eyebrow, lookin' at me like she's actually interested.

"I saw more than my reflection.”

I paused while the memories formed pictures like a weird Super8 film clip.

“There was a crack in the mirror. Daddy got mad and punched it one night, shortly after we moved in."

A sigh slips from my mouth.

"A cracked mirror can certainly create a different image than what we expect. However, you didn't answer the question. Is this the first time you've felt detached from your reflection?"

"I mean, no. I guess. Not really. This time, it was different 'cause of the cracks, maybe.”

"Can you describe in more detail what you saw in the mirror and how it felt different from yourself?"

I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what I saw in the mirror. Heck, I wasn’t sure what I saw. Dr. Lee looked at me so hard it felt like her eyes were burnin' right through me. I couldn't look at her. She would think I'd lost my dang mind.

"Can I see my brothers?"

"I'm afraid it'll be a while before we can let you out of here, Sadie. But don't worry, your brothers are fine. They are together in a nice home with good people. Now, do you want to tell me what you saw in the mirror?"

“I’m not sure, now that I think back on it. I might have been halfway asleep.”

***

When Dr. Lee left, I asked to go to the bathroom. I looked into a clean sheet of thin metal attached to the wall so no one could remove it. Starin’ at my reflection, I waited for somethin' to happen.

Nothin’.

I saw the same face I'd always seen. The same hazel-green eyes, same mousey red-brown hair, same three freckles. The same old Sadie. But I didn't feel anything.

No connection.

No recognition.

No emotion.

It was like lookin' at a stranger—a stranger who looked like me.

I touched my reflection, hoping to feel somethin'. Anything. But all I could feel was cold and numb. I didn't know who I was anymore. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I didn't know what to do.

It felt like I was cryin’ but I didn't see any tears in my reflection—just a blank expression that didn't match what was happenin'. I opened my mouth and silently screamed. My reflection looked back at me with a terrifying grin. I remember screaming for real, right before I hit the floor.

***

Garlands made out of autumn leaves, candles, and twinklin’ lights made the old community center cozy; tables piled with sauces, fruits, cheeses, and bread—the thick scent of spices filled the air.

I scanned the room.

Everyone was there—my third-grade math teacher, best friend from high school, first boyfriend, Mama, and my brothers. Somethin’ felt wrong but I couldn't identify anything in particular—somethin' about how their smiles didn't sit right on their faces.

Daddy took the stage. He was wearin’ the same suite they buried him in. Tappin’ the microphone, he set off a piercin’ sound so loud I had to cover my ears. Next thing I know, he was stretchin’ out his arms toward everyone in the room.

“Welcome, friends!”

His boomin’ voice shook the place. I heard barn doors creak, then, Bang! The sound echoed so loud my teeth started chatterin’. I hugged myself, tryin’ to make it stop.

“What’s goin’ on?”

No one heard me. The crowd began clappin’ their hands slowly, steadily increasin’ the pace.

“It’s time!” Daddy did his famous whistle into the microphone so loud it felt like a physical punch in the stomach. I thought I was gonna puke, but managed to contain it.

The crowd backed away on all sides. I stood there, stiff as a board while they formed a circle around me and started cheerin’. Their movements got more fanatic until their faces got all twisted up. Mama’s eyes were glassy, tears streaming down her face, but she was still cheerin’ and clappin’ along with the others.

I gathered my wits and pushed through the crowd. When I finally got to the door and tugged at the handle, it wouldn’t budge. Behind me, the clappin’ held the rhythm but got louder. Then I heard the dreadful sound of someone sharpenin’ a blade and turned in time to see Daddy pointin’ a giant meat cleaver right at my heart.

***

Smooth, cool tile floor. But from the sounds of it, things were going south for someone. Her shrieks were so loud I had to cover my ears, and even then, I could hear her horrified pleas. NO! STOP! LET ME GO! It wasn't until the orderly grabbed me and pushed a needle deep into the soft flesh of my upper arm that it occurred to me I was the one screamin’.