Lost and Found

Chapter Two - A Dream Within a Dream

But Ms. Keys said overcoming her fear of Funtime Freddy was the key to overcoming her suicidal ideation--the two were linked, the animatronic itself the emotional embodiment of her desire to die, and her fear of it the will to live.

"Easy peasy." Millie sighed heavily, shielding her eyes from the bright sun overhead. Grandpa waved at her from the driver's seat of his old dingy tan car, a big smile on his face as usual. Millie forced herself to smile back as she slid into the passenger's side. "Hey Gramps."

"Hey there, Millie. How was therapy today?"

She shrugged. "It was okay." She paused, forcing the discomfort and lump in her throat back down. "She thinks... I should try to be a little more social. I've still been avoiding Dylan and he hasn't tried to talk to me, so she helped me write out some different ideas for apologizing to him and making amends. I'm going to leave a note at his locker asking him to meet me at the coffee tea shop we went to together this weekend." She also had talked about some of her poetry, and how she felt getting help was useless for someone as miserable as her--but for now she left that out. She promised the psychologist that she would at least put the affirmations up on her bathroom mirror.

"That's great, girlie!" Her grandfather beamed. "You seemed a lot happier when you had a friend. I think it'll do you some good, even if it's not some kind of fairytale, or Poe, sort of ending. You don't have to be friends with everybody, but even one good friend makes a difference."

"Sure."

He exhaled. "Well, in any case, I thought you and I could check out a couple of antique and thrift stores before we make the drive home! I know at least one antique store around here carries dead things, and maybe you can find some new clothes? Maybe something colorful?"

She felt a smidge of excitement ignite in her chest and shrugged again. "That sounds cool, Grandpa. You're pushing it with the colors though."

He backed the car up and smirked. "I'm just saying, Millie--color really does affect mood!"

"So you say."

XXX

Millie trotted slowly through the stalls of the antique store, keeping her eyes peeled for old books or taxidermy. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her faux leather jacket, platform boots clunking noisily in the quiet space.

She paused in front of a large oak bookshelf, eye glittering as she began scanning the spines of the dusty old tomes. Upon seeing the author Percy Bysshe Shelley, she let out an excited squeak and pulled it from its place, a cloud of dust in its wake.

She hurriedly flipped the book open and felt her heart glow--it had been so long since she had gotten a new poetry book, and such an old one no less! She skimmed the yellowed pages, her fingers fluttering over the frayed edges delicate as a moth. She snapped it shut and hugged it to her chest, doing her best to focus on this small joy and stroke of luck--another thing Ms. Keys had told her to do to help her mental health.

She looked up, eager for the opportunity to find something else in this dusty old shop when her eyes met with a pair of pale purple plastic eyeballs.

Millie screamed, jerking back and jamming a glass table into the small of her back. A box of vintage magazines and signed baseballs crashed to the floor, breaking the fragile silence of the shop. "G-Grandpa!"

Millie's grandfather rushed around the corner as if summoned, eyes wide. "Millie? What's going on?"

The girl pushed her fists into her eyes, trying to hold back the tears, knees shaking. "I-I'm sorry. It's just a toy. I just thought..." She pointed at the shelf.