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11

Irritated

Gwendol.

..y...

G wendolyn showered.

She dried her hair, if only to keep the now-short, wet locks from brushing her neck.

Gwendolyn hated that feeling.

Almost as much as she hated how much lighter her head felt without her long hair.

But the last thing Gwendolyn wanted to do was thank the antique dealer.

Gwendolyn ripped her closet open, pulled on some under garments, and grabbed the easiest outfit she could find.

A pair of black leggings and a baggy gray sweatshirt.

The workout outfit had been something Gwen had snagged when she had turned thirty.

Back then she was determined to be strong and fit.

Gwendolyn was still soft, with slightly bigger hips than she had when she bought those leggings.

Socks were quick to follow, along with a black baseball cap.

Gwendolyn stuffed her hair underneath it.

It wasn’t a perfect cover, as anyone behind her would see the strands of pink trying to escape her hat, but it would do for what she had in mind.

Once properly dressed, Gwendolyn went to her workstation.

She ignored the chopped pieces of her hair and snagged the doll.

Somehow, Gwendolyn had finished replacing the doll’s hair.

A brighter shade of pink than her own.

She chucked the head into the same paper bag the doll came in.

Gwendolyn hurriedly dressed the doll—old habits died hard, she supposed.

She swept all the accessories, including the broken sunglasses into the bag as well.

Along with the two outfit pieces she had started for it, because why the fuck not?

Once she had everything in place, Gwendolyn pulled her phone, wallet, and keys from her purse.

She shoved the collection of items in her leggings—thank fuck for pockets—slipped on some simple sneakers, and stomped out of her apartment.

She saw her neighbor again, this time with a box in hand.

Gwendolyn felt that same strange surge of annoyance as he gave her a dirty look.

“Oh, fuck off, shop lifter with extra steps,” Gwendolyn grumbled as she finished locking her door.

Wildly out of character for her?

Yes. Dangerous in the sense that her neighbor most likely knew she lived alone, and could potentially cause very serious problems for her later?

Yes. Possibly violent problems?

Very likely yes. Did she care at the moment?

No.

The proof was in how she ignored his offended shout as she hurried into the elevator.

He might have been pissed at being called out, but not enough to follow her.

Why would he, if it meant getting caught with his neighbor’s package?

She avoided looking at the security camera at the top of the elevator.

How the apartment could afford them in the elevator, but not in the hallways of the apartment building, Gwendolyn didn’t know.

Quite frankly, she was too angry to care about it, despite her brain feeding the thought to her.

She tapped her foot, impatiently waiting for the countdown as the elevator continued its slow descent.

When the elevator doors opened, Gwendolyn continued her brisk walk.

She was halfway to the door when one of the leasing agents came out of the resident lounge.

“Oh, hey!” A perky blonde in a black skirt and silk lavender blouse greeted her.

Gwendolyn had no idea what her name was, but she stopped to listen.

“Just wanted to remind you that we’re having our 4th of July community barbecue in the resident lounge tomorrow! We’ll be having hot dogs, chips, water, and some sodas from eleven to four!” the woman explained.

A strange swell of anxiety and self-loathing blossomed in Gwendolyn’s gut.

It felt out of place beside the boiling anger inside.

The slight tremor hadn’t left her hands since seeing her hair.

But odder still was how the taste of black licorice grew across her taste buds like the sea spreading across dry sand.

She shook off the weird moment.

“Great,” Gwendolyn said bluntly.

“Do you need anything else?”

The woman tilted her head before shaking it.

“Good. Bye,” Gwendolyn said before continuing on her way.

The script was gone.

Honestly, Gwendolyn hadn’t even noticed as she was far too angry to even think about the rules of peopling.

She paced in small circles until her bus arrived, not caring about the attention she drew from other people.

Gwendolyn scanned her bus pass and instead of sitting, opted to stand in the center.

If she sat down, Gwendolyn was worried she’d start tapping her feet until her leg bounced clean off.

She ignored the man staring at her ass in the corner of her vision, though she did curse him in her head.

She cursed the antique dealer, too.

As the bus lurched from stop to stop, Gwendolyn kept eyeing the paper bag at her side.

She could feel the doll parts move, a small object that felt like dead weight.

How could something so small cause so much trouble?

Gwendolyn didn’t have the mindset to think deeply about it.

She just wanted it gone.

By the time the bus arrived at the YMCA, Gwendolyn practically jumped off the moving vehicle.

It was eleven by then, and she could only hope that the antique store wasn’t closed for lunch.

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and Gwendolyn was thinking about killing the antique dealer by the time the familiar building came into view.

The door was less blue and more green this time around.

Something Gwendolyn might have thought was a trick of lighting, or maybe nothing at all if it had been a few days ago.

Now, suspicion grew in her gut as she gathered herself and burst through the front door.

The familiar chime was like a mocking giggle as Gwendolyn shoved the door behind her with her foot.

Glancing around, she immediately noticed that the once vibrant walls were now a darker shade of blue-green.

She couldn’t place it, but it was as if everything in the antique store had changed.

Like the objects had lost their luster.

“ Hoy! ” Gwendolyn shouted into the interior.

She didn’t wait for an answer, bypassing the register and entering the parlor-like space.

The plush chairs were gone, instead offering a single love seat in cobalt blue.

Gwendolyn didn’t know much about antique furniture, but she noticed the buttons on it.

She twirled on her heels, searching past the room into an archway, where more items lay.

As she stepped into the entryway, she spotted a dining table set with silver cutlery and—

“There you are.”

Gwendolyn jumped, whirling on the spot, only to see the subject of her ire standing unbearably close to her.

Ambrosius was dressed similarly to before, except now his pants had pinstripes, his boots were loafers, and his tightly buttoned dress shirt was open for the world to see.

Gwendolyn avoided looking at the strip of skin, though she caught more obsidian ink beneath the layers of silver chains.

His eyes were as dark as she remembered them, much to her chagrin.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Ambrosius continued as he eyed her face in return.

“I was almost starting to worry.”

He was just as handsome as he had been when she saw him last. The same messy bangs were styled back, revealing more of his terribly gorgeous face.

She hadn’t seen the small cluster of beauty marks along his jawline before.

Fuck him, she thought venomously, and was momentarily confused at which way she meant it.

“What is it? Have I rendered you speechless?” he asked, tilting his head to the side with an easy smile.

Gwendolyn’s jaw tightened, but she managed between gritted teeth, “ You —”

“— Are … fascinating? Clever?” he offered as he studied her face.

His grin turned sly, “ Handsome? ”

“ Irritating! ” Gwendolyn snapped.

“Arrogant! Fucking conceited!”

Her anger amplified when he appeared pleased by her insults.

His smile widened, revealing sharp canines, and his eyes narrowed with something Gwendolyn couldn’t place.

She nearly slapped him when he started chuckling.

“So many insults, and before noon!” Ambrosius twirled his cane as he stepped away from her.

“Why, I’d think you were smitten with me, if you weren’t so angry!”

Gwendolyn’s jaw dropped, wholly unprepared for his audacity.

A rebuttal was building in her chest, but the moment she darted to follow him, the paper bag brushed her leg.

That’s right! I’m not here to entertain him!

“Okay, enough. Whatever the fuck your weirdness is—” Gwendolyn shoved the paper bag into his chest for him to take.

“Here. I definitely don’t want this thing anymore.”

Ambrosius didn’t acknowledge the paper bag, entirely focused on her face.

His smile was amused before, but now there was something else hiding in it.

Something dark that would have shaken Gwendolyn, if she wasn’t being overpowered by her intense dislike for him.

“Oh, Gwendolyn ,” he said with a look of cruel disappointment.

“You were so eager for this doll when you came to my shop. In fact, you wanted it more than anything … Whatever could have changed your mind?”

There was something more than the intentional provocation in his voice.

His question all but drained the anger from her frame, leaving her shaky for an entirely different reason.

Ambrosius’ gaze was heavy, as if he had pinned her down like a moth and was eager to pull her apart.

Gwendolyn couldn’t explain it, but there was a level of authority to his tone that left her feeling horribly exposed.

“You said I could have that doll on a trial basis. Well, I tried it, and it’s not for me,” Gwendolyn said simply .

Ambrosius shook his head.

He appeared displeased with her answer, though Gwendolyn couldn’t fathom why.

Or why she even cared, for that matter.

“It’s too early. A simple hair change and a couple of new clothes aren’t enough. Why, you've barely even touched it,” he explained, as if he had seen what she had done to it. “How are you going to fully experience what you can do, if you don’t give it time?”

Slowly, she lowered the paper bag, letting it hang loosely from her fingers. Gwendolyn had the urge to argue, but something in his words caught her off guard. It was one thing to guess that she had changed some part of the doll, but another to know exactly what she had done to it. More importantly, they were both dancing around questions Gwendolyn had, but was too scared to ask. Questions Gwendolyn had been doing her damnedest to avoid, but it seemed foolish to ignore them any longer.

“What is it?” she whispered, then more solidly. “The doll … what did you really give me?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer her, and Gwendolyn could hear blood rushing in her ears. Would he answer her, or would it be more of his annoying aloofness? Gwendolyn could admit she avoided wanting the answer until then. She avoided most things she found inconvenient or uncomfortable for most of her life. And depending on his answer, would Gwendolyn even want to hear?

No, I need to know. I deserve to fucking know.

As Ambrosius leaned in, the floor creaked under his cane’s weight. When he was near enough that Gwendolyn could see the deep brown of his iris, her body demanded she run. It wasn’t safe to be near him, but not for the reasons she was used to. As his eyes dilated, Gwendolyn knew this felt … different. Like looking into the darkness of a forest and knowing something she couldn’t see was staring back.

“I gave you something that I told you would change your life,” Ambrosius murmured, all candied words. “Your life has changed … has it not?”

“It did,” Gwendolyn replied, lip trembling.

His head inched forward, eyes trained on her mouth. His smile was back as his free hand reached up to gently pull at the bottom of her lip. She felt a subtle shock, then heat spread rapidly, lighting up every nerve of her face and neck. Her breathing had gone shallow, as if her chest was being restricted.

“Are you not happy with it?” Ambrosius asked as he tenderly traced the tiny heart shaped scab with his thumb.

“I—” Gwendolyn pushed away from him with a shake of her head.

Wasn’t she supposed to be angry at him? Where had all her anger gone? No, it was still there, she realized. Buried beneath her confusion and curiosity. It was like coming out of a fog. She eyed him, mindful of his hand as he slowly dropped it to his side.

“Look, I really don’t like you, but I don’t speak in innuendo. Whatever this doll is —whatever I agreed to—just fucking tell me,” Gwendolyn demanded firmly. “Or, I swear I will slap the shit out of you.”

It wasn’t just a threat, but a promise. One Gwendolyn intended to follow through with as Ambrosius chortled . His eyes were still dark, but there was something wild about them now as he leaned against his cane. His free hand came up to cover his face as his laughter continued, and for the first time, Gwendolyn saw the ink on his hand clearly. On the back of his hand, jagged pointed legs extended out from a round body. Webbing linked each of the legs and descended below the cuff of his suit jacket.

A spider .

“Oh, Gwendolyn ,” he singsonged beneath the palm of his hand. His voice lacked all of its beguiling sweetness. Now, only a strange distorted tone echoed between his dying laughter. “My poor, bittersweet girl…”

Ambrosius’ middle and ring fingers separated with a quick flick, revealing his right eye. A staggered gasp escaped Gwendolyn. Gone was the dark eye that kept her captive, and in its place were not one, but two eyeballs wedged within a single enlarged eye socket. The two eyes rolled before zooming in on her, mouth splitting into a Cheshire-like grin.

“I can’t even begin to tell you what I am.”