[✔] sciamachy // m. fairchild

x

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Her lungs burned as she stumbled out of the bathtub, her body shaking. She continuously spit the now cold water out of her mouth. She hugged her figure, lugging herself to the mirror. It took more of an effort that it normally would have, as if her feet had been replaced with cement and lead. 

When she was met face to face with her reflection, her hand tremblingly pushed some dangling hair behind her ear. Her eyes started swelling with tears–real tears–at the sight of the dried blood smudged on her cheek, the bright red, wet liquid still dripping from her nose. 

She'd tried so, so hard to fight it. To fight the thing that had made itself at home inside of her body, like a snail crawling under a shell for a new home (she being the shell). However, her heart was a black pit, her body no longer under her control. No matter how hard she tried, it always came back to the voice whispering in her head, telling her what to do. Yet, against the whispers, there was a whistle that quietly rang throughout her head whenever the voice spoke. Similar to a tune in the wind, carried all too quickly for one to decipher. The whistle was the tune and the voices were the wind, carrying the whistle. Part of her wanted to believe the whistle was her own conscious, fighting to regain control of her own body. But, she'd seen what the thing inside of her could do and soon all her hopes were washed out with doubts. She didn't think she'd be strong enough to still have a piece of her fighting.

Her eyes darted around her face, noting every little thing that had changed to her appearance–although she knew she would forget all of her thoughts later when he took over again. Her mind would be blurred and jumbled, the only thing capable of deciphering being the voice of him telling her what to do. She'd have no choice but to listen.

"Leave." She whispered, staring into the eyes of her reflection. Everything around her started to melt into darkness leaving only her and the mirror. A room of all black was the only thing left, besides the girl and the mirror. Soon, the walls rustled and moved, certain parts of it peeling apart. When the wall was peeled apart, it revealed dark, mysterious eyes, overcast with bloodlust. The eyes up, down, left, and right all watched the girl with interest.

"Leave!" She screamed at the reflection, maintaining eye contact with the black irises that weren't hers. "Get out of me!" She continued to scream. The mirror exploded at the action of her raised voice. The girl tore her eyes away from the spot in which the mirror was, turning around to see all the eyes staring and blinking at her. Her skin crawled at the sight of them.

Then, she whipped her head in another direction as she heard a knock. Slowly, she approached the corner in which the knock was coming from. Her breath echoed around the room, being the only other sound besides the squeaking-ish sound coming from the eyes as they blinked.

"Miss. Y/n!" An old, scratchy voice announced. Suddenly, the walls all faded back into the normal bathroom scenery, startling poor Y/n.

"Miss. Y/n, let me in!" Mrs. Grose said, knocking frantically on the door–Y/n had recognized it as Mrs. Grose due to the hideous voice (at least in her opinion it was hideous). Hurriedly, Y/n got dressed, putting on leggings underneath a black and white plaid dress on top of a black, long-sleeved undershirt. Y/n went to open to the door, but when she was a few feet away, her body stopped moving and her muscles relaxed, giving her a slouched look.