I suppose it was her, but she wasn't it. Now, you'll never see Gina Artisan, the dead ballerina, again, but you will see her body, walking around and doing things. Inside of that, however, lies something much more sinister.
It was able to put names to faces, but not remember anything about the mortals that Gina knew. It recognized Madame Tilly, and had to guess completely what to say.
"Madame, I'm so sorry, but-" it began, feeling as though the words were foreign on the tip of it's tongue. That wasn't it's voice.
"Gina, you're bleeding!" the woman cried out.
"I'm sorry, I tripped and fell hit a mirror. I broke it. I'll pay for it, I promise!" it stated, trying it's best to put feeling into the apology. In the times before the Itch was buried with the creeping feeling on the back of Gina's neck (a side-effect of the Itch) and need for everything to be perfect, (also a side-effect) Gina was very meek and apologetic, it remembered.
"Oh, no worries, dear! It's not as expensive as you think. I'll have it replaced by next practice, okay? You just get to the hospital and get those hands fixed up," the woman cooed, smoothing Gina's hair and watching as she flinched back. There was blood in her hair and the older woman knew that (assumed that) Gina had had one of those breakdowns.
Not that Madame Tilly noticed, but as Gina walked off her hands healed themselves. It was an inconvenience to go to doctors, who would surely notice that Gina was having a great struggle breathing. Or rather, it felt odd to the Itch to have to do this, and it kept forgetting every single time it's mind wandered.
Right next to the doors leading outside, there were cubbies with people's possessions in them. All were empty except one, which Gina could figure was hers. She slid on the light brown coat and grabbed the books sitting inside (The Bible was among them and it found itself unable to touch it directly). Then she left, hoping to be alone at last.
Well, not for long at all, because as soon as she stepped out, she was faced with a very familiar boy. A boy that it was certain that Gina had known for two years or so. A tall boy with darker skin and glasses, curly black hair and a big goofy smile. Not to be trusted, it remembered.
"Gi!" he grinned. "You took forever! Thank God, I was getting cold, and you know she won't let me in there, right?! Hate that woman! Anyway, got new hunting equipment. I was thinking of going to that old abandoned neighborhood- with all the murders, you know?- Hey, you look pale! Are you okay?" And with that, he finally let the Itch speak.
"I'm fine," then she found that she didn't remember his name. "I've been having trouble eating and sleeping lately, but otherwise, I'm right as rain, sweetmeat!"
"God, how old are you? You sound like a seventy-three year old man, but if you ever need anybody, I'm right down the hall!" the boy noted. Right down the hall. Who's right down the hall? it wondered.
"You paying attention?" he asked, snapping it out of it's haze.
"Sure am, sugar!" it replied.
"I don't like these pet names. They sound weird from you," then his face lit up. "Or are you flirting?" He wriggled his thick eyebrows at her.
"No," it growled.
As they stopped at the corner of the curb, the young man said, "Wow, feisty! Whatever, it's cool." Then he let out a shout for a taxi.
Once they entered, he pulled out his phone and went to his social media. It looked over his shoulder and to his screen. "I wanted to show you this," he said, but Gina wasn't paying attention. She was busy looking for a name, which she found. Jacob Smith, which wasn't hard to remember at all.
"Bam!" he grinned, showing off a small dog sniffing at weird looking equipment. "For ghost hunting!"
"I think we should part ways and take you to your apartment instead of heading to mine," he muttered to her softly, patting her hair. "You look like you're about to vom--" And he paused and pulled his hand out of her hair. His rosy cheeks turned pale. "Is this blood?" he queried as he flipped his hand over. Surely enough, there was a sticky red color crusting up on the tips of his fingers.
Quickly, it said, "Oh, that? It's nothin', I bumped into a mirror today and..."
The boy started parting her wavy brown hair and said, "Is this glass? It's glass. This isn't good at all. This is cutting open your skin."
It blinked. It hadn't even realized. Of course, the whole body was numb and hardly sending any signals to the brain. "Oh, jeez..." it mumbled as the boy tried taking pieces out.
"Beans!" he hissed, a piece pricking his finger.
"Are you okay?!" it cried, watching blood pool on his fingertip.
"Yeah, I'm good! We'll just head to a doctor and--" he began.
"No, Jacob!" it cried, grappling his hands. "No!"
"I???" he queried, feeling a little heated. "Are you a vampire?!" And when he asked this, he meant it as an inside joke. He expected her to laugh. She didn't. Just stared at him.
"No doctor," it grumbled.
"No doctor?" he asked. "Why no doctor? You need one!"
"Look, I-" it trailed off for a moment. "I'll take care of it."
"Gi, I'm worried!" and when this got no response, he called. "You're scaring me!"
And he was and it fed off of this. Leaving him clueless was all it could do anyway, and it kind of felt bad because fear isn't an emotion that most enjoy. It felt mighty fearful right then.
"Please," it muttered. "Please, please, Jacob. No hospital, no doctors, no anything."
"You never call me Jacob," he responded. "Are... Why so serious?"
"Jacob, I am begging you." it said, not wavering once.
