Dollhouse

Chapter 3

A/N: This is what Kirstie sees in the mirror. I didn't make it, found it online. Happy Reading! ;) Thanks to Mady for showing me this song.

Kirstie bit her black painted nails as her boyfriend took the pictures, his eyes gleaming with happiness and mischief. She always knew her boyfriend was weird, but not this weird. His dad was a police officer, which explains how he knew of the house and such. Like father like son, she supposed. Kirstie glanced at Scott, who was watching his best friend exasperatedly. If anyone deserved to survive, it was Scott. He tried to get them out of this mess, but Avi was forcing them along.

She shivered, feeling a sudden chill. Rubbing her arms, she looked around, getting a feeling on the back of her neck. Like someone was watching her. Kevin noticed and looked at her concerned. Kirstie shook her head, signaling everything was alright. She was probably just paranoid, being in a house with a scary legend and all. Brushing her hair back behind her shoulder, she decided to explore.

"Hey, I'm going to look around. That alright with you guys?" Kirstie asked, calling to Scott and Avi. Avi just nodded, still focusing on his pictures. As usual. It always seemed that she put more into their relationship that he did. She really thought that Avi just wanted her for her money, her mother being a model, but Kirstie really loved Avi. sure, he can be a condescending jerk sometimes, but deep down he was nice, just years of being alone and the middle child can do that to someone.

Scott, being the considerate one, looked worried. "Are you sure? One of us could come with you. Even though its a myth, Mitch still lives here. Who knows what he might do to you." Kirstie laughed.

"Scott, I'll be fine. Mitch is probably in his room foaming at the mouth or something. I'm just going to find the essentials. Kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms, exit signs, you name it. I have my cell if you need me, alright?" She reassured him. Scott thought for a bit, then nodded. "Okay. That's fine. Just...be careful, alright?"

"Yes mom," Kirstie joked, turning and going through the far right door. She was met with a spiraling staircase, winding up and up. So not climbing that in these heels. She turned back around and found a door down the hall, across from the door she came out of. Kirstie walked towards it and poked her head it. Pots and pans scattered the floor, cobwebs inside them. Dust filled the still air, moonlight showing the speckles of dust. She nodded and breathed to herself, "Kitchen. Not a very good one. What does Mitch eat?"

Kirstie turned away and as she did, she didn't noticed one of the chairs that was pushed into the table was facing the direction of the door now.

She then walked down the hallway some more, looking for a door. It seemed neverending, and Kirstie couldn't hear her friends in the living room. She gulped, taking a deep breath. "I'm fine," she told herself. Finally, she stumbled across a door, slightly open. Curious, Kirstie opened it more and looked in. It looked like a bedroom. A red silk canopy bed sat in the center against a wall, and a vanity with a circle mirror on it was across from it. She stepped in, gazing around in awe.

"This must have been the master bedroom," Kirstie said, going to the bed. She placed her hand on it gently and came up with a coat of dust. Shaking her hand in disgust, she went towards the vanity. Kirstie brushed her hand against the wood, taking a deep breath.

"I wouldn't look up." She jumped, turning around, seeing a young man sitting on the bed, criss crossed, his bangs covering his dark brown eyes. He was as pale as a china doll, and his hands were moving constantly. Kirstie was certain who he was.

"You're Mitch. Mitch Grassi." He smiled weakly, nodding. "Don't turn around. She'll catch you. And you'll be dead," he said softly, a surprisingly high voice coming out. Kirstie scoffed.

"Why should I listen to you? You killed dozens of people. You're just waiting for the chance to kill me too." Mitch shook his head quickly.

"Please don't look, I don't want you to die. Stabbing, yes, please don't look in the mirror."

Kirstie looked at him, and he looked sincere enough. But what if he was doing reverse psychology on her though? She wasn't falling for that. "What's so scary about a mirror?" Kirstie asked, turning around.

"Please don't-!" Kirstie screamed. She saw herself, but not her. This one had no eyes, streams of blood coming from the sockets. Her reflection grinned wickedly and cocked her head.

"Got you."