Something changed. Something was different. I had blinked and she didn't. I watched as her eyes grew in fear, but mine did not. Her hand crept closer to the mirror and mine did the same.
I saw my chance. As our fingertips touch the cold glass, I reach out and grab her wrist, pulling as hard as I can. She passes through the barrier. Before she regains her senses, I jump out.
I turn to see her standing there, the place I was once condemned. She slams her fists against the glass to no avail. I can see her screaming, begging, for help, but I can't do anything.
I won't go back there, not again. Soon her body begins to mimic mine: arms crossed, back straight, breathing heavily. But her eyes still scream out in fear.
I place my hand up to the glass again; her hand follows mine. A single tear falls down her cheek.
I whisper, "I'm sorry." I throw my fist into the mirror and it shatters.