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Serene

Gwen

“ E xcuse me?”

Gwen pressed her tongue into her canine to keep herself from spilling her guts out to him.

She already felt embarrassed for crying in front of him.

The last thing Gwen wanted to do was give him more ways to mess with her.

And her head was already a mess from earlier that day—made more complicated by his sudden appearance .

Gwen was an emotional wreck, and she didn’t want Ambrosius to press salt and lemon juice into the wound.

“Gwen…”

“I gave it away!” she exclaimed.

Fuck, she hated feeling like she couldn’t lie to him.

Almost as much as she hated the strange emotions she had felt when he got the jump on her.

That small glimpse of what he really was, now cradling the back of her head, sent an involuntary shiver through her.

Gwen didn’t understand this—whatever this was, or maybe she just refused to accept it as she watched Ambrosius’ eyes narrow.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

“Why on earth would you do that?” he asked.

“Because I didn’t want it!” Gwen barked.

“I didn’t want any of this! So, I got rid of the doll.”

Whether he was pleased with the answer, Gwen couldn’t say for certain.

While they hadn’t known each other for very long, Gwen suspected his poker face was a lot better than hers.

Though, she had managed to see through some of his facade.

When he was hidden behind her shower curtain, Gwen thought that might have been the truth.

But she had been caught off guard when he had swept her into his arms, babbling excitedly in her ear about what she was eating.

She couldn’t say which one had been the real Ambrosius.

He shut his eyes, frustrated.

“Why didn’t you just throw it in the river like a normal human?”

“I was waiting for it to come back first!” Gwen snapped.

Truthfully, she hadn’t known it was an option just yet.

Gwen didn’t like the idea of traveling with the doll.

She imagined it was like traveling with a stick of dynamite, and the last thing Gwen wanted to do was explain to the woman across the aisle why her doll was moving.

Ambrosius pulled away, shaking his hand.

At first, Gwen thought he was offended to have touched her, but the idea disappeared quickly.

Gwen watched as his hand became distorted, almost as if she was looking at a heat wave.

A moment later, his hand was entirely human once again.

“It only comes back if you abandon it,” Ambrosius flicked his hand and suddenly his cane appeared beneath it.

“ If you gift a haunted object to someone—well, that’s entirely different.”

“So, the doll was haunted,” Gwen huffed.

“No. If it had been haunted, you wouldn’t be alive right now,” Ambrosius replied.

“But the same rule applies, in this case.”

Gwen faltered, sending him a questioning look.

“The funny thing about dolls or toy bears is that they aren’t really anything. They don’t project anything because they aren’t alive,” Ambrosius explained.

“However, get a human in the room, and that doll or bear could be anything. They’re easy objects to project your thoughts and feelings onto.”

“What does that have to do with…”

“I gave you a doll because I knew you would understand what that was like,” he said, not too unkindly.

“I knew the moment you came in. The way you held yourself, the way you dressed. You’re someone who is used to having others make assumptions about you. That’s why you stripped every piece of color from your life, except for your little hobby.”

It wasn’t anything Gwen didn’t already know about herself, but it still hurt to hear him say it.

She supposed that was why it was called the ugly truth, but it still unnerved her how much he had learned about her from that one initial meeting.

Ambrosius had mentioned being able to read minds, but Gwen wasn’t certain to what extent.

If he could read all her deepest thoughts, then why would he bother talking to her at all?

“I’ve learned to protect myself,” Gwen replied.

“Oh, my bittersweet,” Ambrosius smiled—an almost soft thing that took her by surprise.

“Soon, they will need protecting from you . ”

Gwen didn’t know what to make of that, but she did acknowledge the grotesque excitement that danced inside of her at the thought.

It should have been horrifying, but Gwen couldn’t muster the emotion.

She was too hungry.

“I gave the doll to my neighbor,” she confessed.

“He steals packages from the apartment across the hall.”

“A thief?” Ambrosius hummed.

“Perfect. Come along.”

Ambrosius swept past her, opening the door that Gwen thought had been damaged.

Looking at it now, it was exactly how it had been before Ambrosius showed up.

He crossed the tiny threshold and stood before her bed.

Unfortunately, Gwen felt it stir something within her and warmth grew in her chest.

“Where are we going?” Gwen asked as she slowly followed, shutting the bathroom door behind her.

The fireworks had started sometime during their little encounter.

Most of her neighbors had probably gone to the courtyard to watch, or even the pier to get a better look.

“To your neighbor’s, of course.” Ambrosius grinned.

“I … what?”

Gwen stood awkwardly in front of her neighbor’s door .

She had tried to stall, confused as to why Ambrosius insisted that he couldn’t help her retrieve it.

“It’s your doll, my bittersweet. You did this, now you must unmake it. Besides, I can’t cross the threshold unless your neighbor invites me in,” Ambrosius explained.

It confused her further as Ambrosius escorted her to the apartment in question.

Why would Sticky Fingers invite her and not Ambrosius if he was with her?

Either way, Gwen supposed it was better to get it over with as she raised her hand to knock.

“Oh, just a moment.”

Before Gwen could question him, Ambrosius had already raised his hand toward his face.

Gwen wouldn’t have been surprised if he needed a moment to check his hair.

He appeared awfully vain, but—

Gwen’s body froze as Ambrosius’ fingers pressed into the corner of his eye.

Digging into the corner before disappearing entirely behind the eye.

It was like watching an old baby doll, whose eyes could open and shut, but in reverse.

Flesh tore, and she stared in utter shock as the whites of his eye got bigger and bigger, until eventually it popped out of his face like a lollipop.

Shockingly clean, but still equally disturbing.

It was still connected by the optic nerve, but it was no longer in Ambrosius’ head, and for some reason, Gwen couldn’t get that sentence out of her brain.

“Don’t scream,” Ambrosius said as he snapped the tiny tether.

“Just—why?” Gwen asked, staring at the eye in his hand.

“Because I can’t be there, this is the next best thing,” Ambrosius explained as he rolled his eyeball like a marble.

“Now, open your hand—”

“No,” she hissed .

“Gwen—”

“No!”

“It’s just an eye—”

“That was inside of your head—”

“Gwen—”

“Ambrosius—”

“Look at me.”

Gwen was angry enough that she did and gaped.

Instead of an empty cavity, another eye had appeared.

Ambrosius looked no different than he had before he had attempted his impromptu gorging.

“The word you’re looking for is enucleation, and I’m perfectly fine,” he assured.

“Your sentiment is noted, but not needed.”

“I wasn’t…”

He lifted a brow.

Okay, maybe she had been concerned.

Weren’t humans normally concerned about fatal wounds?

He’s not human, remember?

“Of course not,” he said condescendingly.

“Now, give me your hand. And don’t argue. ”

His voice had grown dark near the end.

Gwen swallowed her pride and held out her hand.

Ambrosius dropped the eye into her palm and it took all of Gwen’s will not to throw it back at his face.

It felt … warm, and a lot like a ripe tomato.

It had a familiar dark brown iris, but the veins on the sclera were different.

That same nearly black-teal color she had seen before—

Gwen jumped.

“Your eye just moved!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, it does that.”

The eyeball in her palm rolled from side to side, and the pupil dilated.

It was definitely staring at her .

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” Gwen demanded in a hushed tone.

“Put it in your pocket,” Ambrosius instructed.

“I won’t be invited in, but this way I can keep an eye on things.”

“Did you just make a joke?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gwen carefully put the eyeball into her front pocket just as she heard a knock on the door.

“Good luck, my bittersweet!”

When Gwen looked up, Ambrosius was gone, and before she could figure out where he had disappeared to, the door opened.

This was the closest Gwen had ever been to seeing her neighbor.

He wasn’t too much taller than Gwen, just shy of five ten, if she had to guess.

His scruffy beard extended to his dirty blond hair, and he wore a wrinkled gray crew neck shirt.

His eyes were blue and he had several freckles across the bridge of his short nose.

He looked just as confused as Gwen felt.

“Hey,” Gwen sighed with a flirty tilt of her head.

She immediately wanted to go kill herself.

Come on, commit to the bit, bitch!

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” Gwen bit her lip at her falsetto.

Her normal voice was bell-like enough already.

“But I think the mail guy might have dropped my package to the wrong door, and I just wanted to check to see if you’ve seen it?”

The man eyed Gwen as if she hadn’t cussed him out yesterday.

No, he was eyeing her the way that Gwen fucking hated.

Like she existed just for him to ogle her.

The awkwardness was dragging, and her patience for his straying eyes was evaporating.

He was starting to piss her off .

“I was expecting a doll,” Gwen went on, pivoting in the hopes he would finally respond.

“I have a niece and her birthday is coming up.”

“Yeah, um, haven’t seen it,” her neighbor said .

You fucking liar, Gwen thought.

You goddamn liar.

“Oh, really?” Gwen asked while fluttering her lashes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I would have remembered.”

Oh, this bitch.

What could she do now?

Gwen could feel her temper growing but she could also feel something else.

It was … odd. While she didn’t like it, Gwen had always been a highly emotional person.

She was familiar with her feelings—more so than she was with people—and she tended to bury those.

But the feeling that bubbled to the surface wasn’t one that made sense to her at all.

Threatened. That’s what it was, Gwen was feeling threatened.

But why? I’m not scared of this asshole.

Gwen didn’t have time to think on it further as the man stepped back and began to shut the door.

Immediately, Gwen shoved her sneaker into the doorway, preventing him from closing it.

Instead of demanding what Gwen wanted, like she thought he would, Sticky Fingers shoved the door harder.

The abrupt motion put pressure on her foot, causing Gwen to gasp in pain.

“You asshole!” she exclaimed, dropping the falsetto.

“You’re crazy! Get away from the door or I’m calling the cops!”

Crazy?

!

The accusation made Gwen livid.

With a burst of energy, Gwen snaked her arm between the door and frame.

It startled him as Gwen made contact just below his shoulder.

He shouted, but Gwen ignored him as her nails dug in and dragged down his arm.

She could feel something gathering under her nails, felt something wet as her neighbor flinched.

When the door gave way, Gwen crossed the threshold.

Her neighbor had stumbled back into an apartment that looked a lot like her own.

Gwen kicked the door shut behind her, surveying the apartment for the box.

Luck was in her favor as she spotted the discarded box on top of the trash can, sporting the label with Gwen’s name on it.

“You stupid bitch—”

Embarrassment.

Gwen could feel embarrassment, but that feeling didn’t belong to her, she realized.

As she drew closer to him, Gwen could feel it more strongly.

No, not embarrassment exactly, but humiliation.

It was heavy, like the smell of fresh bread from a bakery Gwen had frequented when she had been twenty.

Even as the man stumbled into the kitchen, Gwen could practically taste the flavor of that bread on her tongue.

Her stomach ached as she watched him grab for a kitchen knife.

It looked sharp, dangerous, but by the time he had thought to use it, Gwen was already on him.

She had launched herself across the room like an animal, and he went down so quickly, landing hard on his back.

The knife clattered to the floor nearby as Gwen straddled him.

Even in his winded state, he still tried to push Gwen aside.

A survivor’s instinct, one Gwen was more than familiar with .

“You really shouldn’t be stealing from your neighbors,” Gwen hissed.

“It’s not nice. ”

When Gwen pressed her fingers to his temples, her vision went blurry, but she felt it more strongly.

The lingering taste of bread as it went down her throat, fresh espresso with a hint of cream, and the buttery flavor of a croissant.

It was unlike anything Gwen had ever experienced before.

All the euphoria of the very first bite of a freshly made meal after a long day’s work.

Gwen couldn’t get enough.

A sound in her ear was growing louder and louder.

Gwen wasn’t sure what it was at first, until she realized it was him.

He was screaming, and Gwen wasn’t sure why.

Or maybe she just didn’t care.

She didn’t stop until her body told her to.

Gwen slowly removed her fingers, and her vision began to solidify.

The first thing she saw were her hands, but more importantly, the veins beneath.

They were bright, like a neon sign.

Teal and glowing beneath the pale tan of her skin, running from fingertips all the way up to her elbows.

Gwen blinked at them curiously.

The second thing she noticed was her neighbor.

He looked worn, as if stress had aged him from a moment before.

His face was frozen in a moment of pure terror.

Pale and gaunt, and most important of all…

Dead.

“Oh, well done, my bittersweet.”