Rivulet by Jamie Magee

independent it made me feel. And how bad it ticked off Rasure. Nearly made her apoplectic, in fact.
    Still feeling empty without my scarf bracelet, I scurried around, looking for gloves, hoping that would serve as a barrier if I lost control today. I found black ones that had the fingers cut out; they were almost too small, barely reaching my wrist.
    I began to pin a few layers of my short blonde hair back here and there, trying to create an on purpose, messy look. I reached for the brush and straightened, then angled my long bangs to the side. With each stroke, I brought memories to life. I’d shared this brush with my sisters when they were alive, and each time I used it visions of them would come to life around me. I would see them getting ready for school, talking about trivial stuff, nothing that really mattered. It always made me happy, gave me peace.
    I had a daily routine that I’d been trying to break myself from for months. Each day I found an excuse to go, and today the absence of the scarf was the perfect justification to seek the warmth I knew I’d find.
    I looked over myself once more. Smirking, you’d have thought that I wanted to make sure I looked right in case the image I was about to see would acknowledge me. A warm hum centered above my heart and started to spread through my chest as I began to walk toward the North Wing.
    The first time my grandmother walked me down here, I felt the same way. You would think by now that it would just be a routine or like watching the same movie a hundred times over, but I knew that each time I came here I would see something different. Those emotions I wanted to feel in real life were going to flood me.
    Gran told me that this wing was mine, that it would help me understand who I was, am, and would be. I didn’t understand why she thought that. I assumed she was just trying to get me to grasp the Falcon legacy. The North Wing is the original wing of the manor. It connects to all my favorite rooms as well, the massive three-story library along with the dome room. It was nothing less than regal. Every piece of furniture in that wing was hand-selected and handcrafted by Falcons. It was so priceless that it had been sealed for years before my grandmother gave it to me. Not surprisingly, when Rasure drew up plans to add on to the manor, she planned to tear this wing down and build it again; she claimed it needed to be restored. We went to court. I won. The wing remained untouched—well, except for my slow walks through it each morning.
    Sometimes late at night, when I was all alone, I would let my imagination run wild. I would tell myself that the life behind these doors was mine, that the one I was living that was rich with dark grief was just a nightmare that I would wake from one day.
    I knew those thoughts were destructive, that because I let myself become addicted to this image in the North Wing that I had shut myself off from feeling anything like it in my present life. I knew that if I never felt the way I did when I was here that I would have forced myself to try harder in the relationships I’d let fall apart. The thing is, though, you have to willingly choose to get over an addiction. It will not go away on its own, and I chose to embrace this one. I chose to watch this life instead of live mine.
    My hands trembled slightly as I reached to open the door that led to the wing. My heartbeat picked up as the air carrying the aroma of warm spices washed over my face.
    Soft piano music was heard instantly. Low laughter reached my ears and warmed my soul.
    At sixteen, when I first came here I only heard memories in this wing; small, sweet, innocent words. As the years moved forward, as I became a young woman, I began to see the image behind that voice I always heard when I was afraid and needed something to hide behind.
    His low laugh stopped me in my tracks. I felt a burning sensation spread through my body. I glanced to the open doorway to my left. He was there. All