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Foolish

Gwen

G rief and sorrow smothered Gwen, hanging heavily over her crumpled form for what felt like hours.

The relentless storm inside of her—a constant torment with no relief—ate away at everything.

Every sob was loud and ugly, pulling from her frame with every gasping breath.

When it finally stopped, Gwen lay in the aftermath of sweat and ichor.

A part of her wanted to continue crying, but there was nothing left inside to give.

She had crossed a threshold that left her numb and exhausted, but that didn’t mean her mind could stop thinking.

The echoes of thoughts brushed against her, like a stranger barely grazing her shoulder.

If you break him from his prison, he could stay.

You don’t know if he will even if you do help him.

It’s better to end things …

just finish the doll …

you’re jobless … unlovable …

miss him … it hurts .

Gwen needed to move.

If she could get out of bed and do something with her hands, it would help ground her.

The same way she distracted herself days before with crocheting.

With great effort, Gwen crawled out of bed.

She was sticky in so many ways as she entered the bathroom.

The spider colony hadn’t grown since the night before, but Gwen spotted something odd in the cluster of threads and moving parts.

Hot tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as Gwen recognized the abnormal sight as Ambrosius’ eye.

The spiders must have found it in her cut-offs and snatched it up, wrapping it in webbing.

A part of him will never leave, see?

You’re fine—I shouldn’t have to settle for a fucking eye—why not finish the doll—at least you’ll see him sometimes—

It doesn’t matter because he’ll never love me.

Gwen fell into the shower.

Despite how sick she was of crying, tears still fell as rapidly as the shower water did.

When her fingers and toes had grown prune-like, Gwen turned off the water.

She lingered in the shower, wrapped in a towel.

Eventually, she pulled herself away and toward her closet.

She shrugged on a black sleeveless shirt and a pair of matching leggings.

Gwen walked toward her work station.

She eyed her wall of dolls and all the different shades of colors.

It had been ages since she worked on a doll.

The familiar itch to work was buried beneath so many awful emotions that Gwen almost didn’t recognize it.

She sat at her desk, reaching for her sketchbook when her leg brushed the straps of her backpack.

Gwen froze, aware of what was inside of it.

Don’t do it .

Gwen pulled the backpack into her lap, running her hands over the clasp.

The urge to open it—a strange compulsion that she couldn’t quite explain.

Was she that desperate to keep Ambrosius in her life?

Or was this some unexplained, supernatural phenomenon?

Gwen couldn’t say. The only thing she knew was that she had reached in for the doll without realizing it.

Not until the doll was suddenly in her hands …

and vastly different.

What had once been the familiar form of a Miss Maddie Moxie , had been replaced with a different doll.

Larger than the usual plastique dolls Gwen worked with, it was dressed in a simple white slip.

Upon further inspection, Gwen found several ball joints, which made the doll much more flexible.

Where it had come from—well, Gwen had a few ideas, but that’s not what was so unsettling about it.

Staring back at her beneath heavy lids were amber eyes that looked way too much like hers.

If that wasn’t a big enough indicator to the weirdness, the doll also sported a dusty rose-pink hair cut in the same fashion as Gwen’s messy bob.

The face was even shaped like hers.

“What the fucccckkk… ”

Why had her precious doll become this weird duplicate of herself?

Gwen’s instinct was to go to him, but that ship had sailed.

She would have to just accept that this was just yet another supernatural thing and move on.

Unless…

Unless I give the spiders the scroll.

Her grip on the doll tightened.

Gwen couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t seriously be thinking of taking the gifts Ambrosius alluded to in the scroll, let alone finishing the doll.

Gwen resisted the trickle of thoughts insisting the mini version of her needed makeup.

At minimum, a dramatic lip color, which Gwen already knew of a perfect shade—

There was nothing rational about her life anymore, and emotional regulation had officially fucked off to hell knew where.

Everything was fucked up, so what was one more mess to make?

“Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it! ” Gwen exclaimed, snatching the scroll from the bag.

She crossed the short distance to the bathroom.

A cluster of spiders were crawling along the bathroom floor.

They paused, bodies tense as Gwen dropped to her knees before them.

Careful not to accidentally squish them, Gwen placed the scroll in front of them.

For a moment, they just stared at her in a way that Gwen hoped wasn’t judgmental.

The last thing she needed was to learn that her spider roommates were a bunch of dicks.

However, that didn’t appear to be the case, as one little spider slowly crawled onto the case and planted its body on top.

A moment later, another spider did the same.

Before Gwen knew it, all the spiders had come to rest on the scroll.

Gwen bit her lip as she stood.

Something told her they wanted her to leave.

Retreating back to her desk, Gwen looked at the doll version of herself.

She couldn’t say where the burst of creativity came from, only that Gwen needed to design an outfit right away.

She yanked her sketchpad to her, flipping open to a new sheet of paper.

The vision in her head came easily onto the paper, sparking Gwen to act.

She flew through her drawers and boxes for fabric and beads.

Gwen gathered more than she needed, dropping them onto the desk in a messy pile.

She measured, cut, and pinned fabric together at a rapid pace.

Her hands ached— they hadn’t really stopped since she quit her job—but she continued to work.

Pulling fabric through her sewing machine with precision and care.

The bead work was trickier.

Gwen had to move quickly, otherwise her hands would cramp up and slow down her progress.

The more she worked, the more she could see the idea in her head brought to life.

The urge to finish something overwhelmed her need to cry over a broken heart.

At least, that was what she told herself.

Her joints were screaming for a break, but Gwen didn’t stop.

She slipped the jacket on, carefully pulling the pliant limbs through.

The shoes were a bit tricky, but the platforms fit perfectly.

Gwen picked up the doll, staring at the creation with pride.

This mini version of her was beautiful.

All she needed to do now was paint on the red lip and she would be all set.

Yanking open a drawer, Gwen searched through her paints.

She needed a shade that wouldn’t pull away from the pink she used on the doll’s outfit.

The sudden knock on the door was like reality bursting into her sanctuary.

Gwen froze, suddenly aware of how much her hands really hurt.

It couldn’t have been him.

It sounded too ordinary compared to his previous knocks.

She thought about ignoring it, pretending she wasn’t home when the knock came again.

Was it possible he had come back?

Gwen didn’t want to hope, but before she could stop, her feet were moving.

Slow steps soon hurried toward the door.

Hope gripped her, the urge to rip the door open and throw her arms around him growing with every beat of her battered heart.

It was a mistake .

I’m sorry.

I’ll have you however I can get you, just please let me keep you—

When Gwen jerked the door open, she was met with horrible disappointment.

It wasn’t Ambrosius behind her front door, but someone she hadn’t been expecting.

“Sierra?”

The young woman looked different out of the work uniform.

She imagined everyone did, but it was different seeing it outside of that building.

Dressed in a white laced tank top, distressed jeans, and strappy sandals, Sierra looked like any other young college woman in the summer.

“Hi … can we talk?” Sierra asked, wringing her hands together.

The bracelets on her wrists clacked as she did.

The last thing Gwen wanted to do was talk to one of the two people she had publicly shamed.

It kind of defeated the purpose of telling someone off.

But the disappointment and heartache still weighed on her shoulders.

She could blame it on him as Gwen slowly stepped back.

“Come in,” Gwen gestured.

Sierra’s smile was small as she stepped inside.

Gwen led her toward her small kitchen to sit at the table.

The high of her creative burst was wearing down, and the exhaustion from focusing so hard for so long slowly crept into Gwen’s frame.

The sensation gave her something to focus on as she waited for Sierra to collect her thoughts.

“Gwen, I’m sorry,” Sierra said.

“I misunderstood and ran my mouth. It’s just—you didn’t seem like the type to have an eating disorder, and when I heard Tom said he slept with you, I just thought … well, I guess it doesn’t matter wh at I thought. The point is, I was a gossipy, awful coworker and I’m sorry I said what I did.”

The words lingered in the silence of the room for a moment.

Maybe Sierra hadn’t been malicious on purpose, but out of hurt.

If Sierra was hung up on Tom the way Gwen thought she was, it must have really upset her to think he slept with someone else.

The idea of Ambrosius being with anyone but her made Gwen sick, but it didn’t surprise her.

Gwen had never been good at sharing.

“I didn’t sleep with Tom,” she said, quietly but firmly.

“I know that now. I … I feel stupid for thinking he did,” Sierra said, a bit teary-eyed.

“I’m sorry, I have my period and everything is so…”

Fucking god damn fuck.

“It’s fine, Sierra—”

“No, it isn’t! I was awful and a complete bitch, and I can’t believe I thought Tom and I had something.” Sierra winced, clutching her lower belly.

“What a time to run out of Midol . I should go to the pharmacy.”

If this was genuine or not, Gwen wasn’t going to argue.

Sierra was basically giving her an out from a conversation Gwen didn’t want to deal with.

She followed her former coworker to the door and fumbled for a moment as to what to say to the young woman.

Luckily, Sierra’s gift for gab filled the awkward silence for her.

“I really am sorry, Gwen. I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”

Gwen wasn’t sure why, but there was something …

odd about her words.

She had been distracted with her own emotions for most of their encounter.

Gwen hadn’t even registered any of Sierra’s, but the most awful smell was coming off of her now .

Like every item off a fast-food menu blended with vodka and served in a dirty ashtray.

“Someday.”

Gwen shut the door, letting out a tired sigh.

She was starting to feel peckish, and with a refrigerator full of food that only sort of tasted like anything, Gwen would have to venture outside.

If she had been smart, she should have feasted on Sierra, but that smell hadn’t been appetizing in the slightest. Not at all like the delicious scent of apple pie Dr. Monday had.

Maybe I should eat him?

The thought was amusing as Gwen pulled a bra on under her shirt.

She was in the middle of fastening the hooks when she heard a knock on the door again.

Gwen frowned. Had Sierra forgotten something?

A quick search revealed one of Sierra’s bracelets on the chair she had been sitting in.

Gwen picked it up, sparing a glance at the letters on the bracelet before heading to the door.

“Hey,” Gwen pulled the door open.

“Did you forget—”

There was little time for Gwen to react to the figure that lumbered against the door, but enough for her mind to register what was wrong.

The figure wasn’t Sierra, but the decayed body of the neighbor Gwen had killed.

His face was still contorted in that look of horror, eyes a pale white and mouth wide in a scream.

Gwen stumbled back, adrenaline pumping as her dead neighbor continued toward her.

He was making nonsensical noises, things Gwen couldn’t even assume were words.

His movement was shaky, but he moved faster than Gwen could think.

The door shut behind him with a loud slam .

Eat him , a voice inside Gwen urged.

Suck him dry and survive!

She reached out, searching for the scent or taste of flavor, but none was there.

Her power wasn’t going to help her now.

Gwen darted into the kitchen, jerking a drawer open for a knife.

All her knives were dull, but it was better than nothing.

By the time her hands closed around the handle, her neighbor was already within reach.

Gwen scrambled away, using her small kitchen table as a barrier as she skirted around it.

She knocked into one of the chairs as she went, and the undead man jerked around, tilting his head to the side.

Fuck, he’s listening for me!

Gwen could go slow and quietly—maybe make it to the front door.

The knife could buy her time, but she wasn’t a complete fool.

She knew a knife wouldn’t stop a supernatural entity, and even if Gwen tried, she wasn’t strong enough—

The scroll!

Without another thought, Gwen darted toward the bathroom door.

She slammed it open, stumbling onto the floor in her haste.

The bracelet skittered across the floor.

Gwen hadn’t even realized she had been holding onto it still, but that didn’t matter.

Not when she caught sight of the object hanging on the wall.

It was completely obscured by spider webbing, but Gwen had no doubt in her mind that the object was a book.

Her hope was short-lived at the sound of her dead neighbor coming closer.

Turning onto her back, Gwen kicked the door in an attempt to shut it.

Her reaction wasn’t fast enough, as the man’s hand slid inside.

Gwen screamed, kicking harder as she clumsily moved forward with the knife.

She plunged it into the man’s palm, but just as she suspected, all it did was cause a burst of noise from his mouth.

His hand moved too quickly for Gwen to retrieve the knife.

Gwen shoved her shoulder against the door, bracing her hands against it in an attempt to stop him.

But her dead neighbor was a force too strong for Gwen to fight.

She felt the door giving away to his strength, despite her desperate attempts.

The book was too far for Gwen to reach.

She would have to chance him catching her to grab it.

You have to choose…

The words spurred Gwen into action.

With one final shove, she launched herself toward the book and—

The heavy impact of his body sent Gwen to the ground.

It knocked the wind from her lungs as pain exploded in her abdomen.

Something hot spilled across her, then began pouring so rapidly.

The horror of what was happening hit her when she felt teeth dig into her flesh and chew.

Gwen wanted to scream, but her voice failed her as blood rose in the back of her throat.

It spilled out of her mouth, coating her neck.

Despite it all, Gwen still tried to fight.

She kicked, she pushed, and when none of that worked, Gwen dug her nails into the man’s scalp as hard as she could.

Until she couldn’t.

Within her spotty vision, Gwen could see the book.

It was barely hanging to the wall, and Gwen realized she must have hit it with her hand on the way down.

So close, but not enough…

The fear and the panic were suddenly so far away.

As Gwen choked on the blood—so much of it—she could hear the sound of her neighbor eating her.

The irony wasn’t lost on Gwen, but even the dark humor of the moment couldn’t shake a single thought.

One regret that she latched onto.

I should have told you I lo…