After Poole's retreat into the basement, Teddy blinked back tears and grimaced at her slime-covered hand. She stood to wash up at the kitchen sink, half expecting nothing but dust to emerge from the old faucet. But just as Mr. Poole had explained, it seemed that the little house — and everything in it — was captured in time. Cold, clear water poured from the tap, soothing Teddy's lingering anger. She let the water run over her hands, marveling at the feel of it on her skin. She wondered if it would ever run out — if the magic would ever run out — but the persistence of the cool water on her hands told her it was infinite.
Hands clean of the spider and the tense encounter with the butler, Teddy exited the kitchen and followed the orange carpet path through the maze of junk. It was already early evening, and she'd failed to complete a single task she had planned out for the day. While she didn't have to worry about food, electricity, or water, there was still the issue of internet access — she made a mental note to worry about that in the morning.
She was tired, but there wasn't much to do about that — she was too overwhelmed and overstimulated to rest. She resolved to get some work done after all, to at least get a head start on the following day's cleaning, sorting, and organizing. She followed the thin path down a dim hallway and into the master bedroom, Grandma Rose's room. It was just as she remembered, sans the parrot, with neatly stacked cardboard boxes, suitcases, trunks and loose books surrounding a queen size bed. Organized chaos.
Teddy sighed, overwhelmed, not sure where to begin. She scanned the belongings until an ornate trunk caught her eye in the back corner of the room. She climbed on the bed to reach it, then pulled it onto the neat floral bedspread to inspect.
Neatly packed within the trunk was a pile of delicate, varied fabrics. Teddy swept her fingertips over the contents — cool silk, delicate lace, intricate beading, bold velvet. She pulled a single piece from the pile — thin, black silk with fine lace detail — and laid it out on the bedspread. It was a dress, ankle-length, sleeveless, with a flowing skirt and lace along a scoop neckline. It was unlike any piece of clothing Teddy had ever seen in real life, and had she not felt the delicate silk ripple beneath her fingertips, she would've guessed it was a costume. Vintage... 20s? 30s? Teddy guessed in wonder, feeling the silk between her fingers.
She peered back inside the trunk, wanting to see, to touch, every single immaculate piece. Patiently, she retrieved the matching garments from the trunk: A sheer black shawl, a pair of black lace gloves and a small, strangely angled beret. She laid each piece carefully on the bedspread with the dress, then let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She sat beside the garments in quiet appreciation a moment longer before succumbing to the irresistible urge to play dress up.
She hopped off the bed, then tiptoed to the bedroom door, suddenly feeling like a little girl getting into her mother's wardrobe. She smiled, this was even better. She peered out into the hallway, checking for any sign of her peculiar roommate or the cat (if the cat could speak telepathically, it could also judge her, she reasoned). Once she felt sufficiently sure she was alone, she returned to her new treasures.
In the corner near the door, Teddy spied the top of a gold-framed mirror just visible from behind a wall of stacked boxes. She grunted as she shoved things out of the way, just enough to reveal her reflection in the body-height mirror. She stared at herself for a moment, marveled at just how normal she looked in contrast with her day, with her life—Her hair tied up in a bun, some strays falling loose and sticking up in the back like a peacock, her wrinkled shorts and t-shirt. None of it fit the scene. Against the backdrop of Grandma Rose's room, Teddy was like a cartoon character in a live-action film. She made a face at herself in the mirror before turning her attention back to the dress.
She slipped off her shorts and pulled her shirt over her head, the fabric further fraying her already messy bun. She yanked at the hair band and her dark hair fell from its hold. She picked up the dress and carefully pulled it over her head. The silk was cool on her skin and she shivered as it fell like water over her body. She was sure the dress was much too big, the way it hung loose around her waist and low on her chest, but when she looked in the mirror, the dress was a perfect fit. The scooped neckline revealed just enough skin, the curve of the shoulders and the lines of the collarbones. Against the inky black silk, her skin glowed like the moon. Although the delicate fabric felt loose against her frame, it hugged her waist and smoothed down her legs, creating curves she'd never seen before.
Where before Teddy felt out-of-place, with her messy hair and plain t-shirt, she now watched herself blend effortlessly into the ornate scenery behind her. With greater confidence, she pulled on the lace gloves and matching shawl. The girl standing before her in the mirror was someone she no longer recognized, yet somehow she was also someone she knew very, very well. Teddy smiled. The girl in the mirror smiled back.
The room grew darker. Teddy peered around, searching for the source of the change. It was probably getting dark outside, she thought, but the windows weren't visible behind the walls of hoarded belongings. Just as she was about to shrug it off, a sweet scent caught her nose. Is that me? She lifted the loose silk neckline to her nose and sniffed. Nope.
She fixed her gaze back on her reflection, planning to try out her next new outfit, but the smell intensified to a level that was impossible to ignore. She tried to place it. Fruit? Cake? Fruitcake? She wondered. But as the smell persisted, she felt sure it was something pure, something concentrated, like simple syrup or honey. She wrinkled her nose, the smell becoming intensely, sickeningly sweet.
Dizzy from the sudden, overwhelming stench, Teddy grasped the bedpost, attempting to steady the dark, spinning room. She held her breath against the invisible, pungent fumes. The room continued to spin and dark spots danced in her vision as her head grew lighter and lighter. When she locked eyes with her reflection, she gasped — a sharp, painful, screaming inhale — and the smell receded. The room slowed.
Eyes trained on the mirror, Teddy's senses slowly returned to normal. Her vision cleared, her breathing returned, but the fear in her chest remained. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, eyes locked with own green eyes. She stared at herself, watched as her reflection mimicked her expression — suspicion in her narrowed eyes, disbelief in the curve of her lips, fear in her furrowed brow.
She had seen something...
For an instant, moments before, as the room spun and her vision tunneled, she had seen it. It had been her, she couldn't deny that, but it wasn't. It was impossible. While she had crouched in her immaculate silk gown, blinking against the sweet assault and grasping the bedpost for support, her reflection stood nude, a shock of white flesh against the darkness of the room. She wore an unrecognizable expression, one that made Teddy's face burn and her stomach clench at the memory now burned into her mind. It was raw, dramatically seductive, her lips wet, parted, smiling softly; her eyes narrow, devious, sultry. Then — worse — something emerged from her parted lips, startlingly black against her luminescent skin. One, two, four, eight legs emerged from her open mouth, and crawled down the curve of her neck...
Fear, anger, revulsion flared within her. She felt violated, unraveled, insane. She couldn't look at herself without seeing that face, that other person in the mirror. Eyes still focused on her reflection, she watched her face twist into a grimace. She wanted to make herself ugly, change herself into something else, but no matter what she did, she still saw it there.
She clenched her fist, nails digging into her closed palm. She couldn't leave it be, couldn't walk away, couldn't brush it off as a trick of the light. She was afraid — afraid of what she had seen, afraid of how any of it was possible — but more than anything she was ashamed, ashamed because she knew that the girl in the mirror was her. Before she even knew what she was doing, she took her fist and smashed it into the mirror with all her strength.
Pain shot from her knuckles and up her arm like an electric current. The mirror cracked against her fist, the glass spiderwebbed out from its force. Her reflection multiplied as the glass shattered. Where two angry eyes had once stared back at her, now ten, twelve, twenty wide, frightened orbs quivered, blinked, and cried before her.
Pain snapped her back to reality. After what felt like hours, Teddy diverted her attention away from the mirror to inspect her aching, pulsing hand. She felt dizzy again at the sight — her knuckles were bloody from the glass and the impact — one shard of glass was still stuck deep in her middle finger. She sat down on the bed, feeling woozy and nauseous. She bit her lip, a small attempt to keep the tears at bay. They gushed out hot on her cheeks anyway. She took a shallow breath and pulled out the shard, blood dripping down her fingertips and disappearing onto the inky blackness of her gown.
Then she fell into darkness too.