Due to the incidents at work, I've been told to take some time off. Phil and Darren seem to think that's the reason I'm not myself lately. So now, here I am—stuck at home in my bedroom for a week, shut off from everything and everyone.
I haven't spoken to Dad or Millie. I've ignored all the calls and messages from Mike, Lollie, and Mitch. I don't even know what day it is anymore. Everything's a blur.
There's a soft knock on my bedroom door.
"Eden, it's Mitch. Your dad let me in..." he says gently through the wood.
I sit on the edge of my bed, eyes fixed on the peeling paint of my bedroom wall. I don't respond.
"Can I come in?" he asks.
"Whatever," I reply bluntly.
The door creaks open. Mitch steps in and quietly closes it behind him. He stands for a moment, just watching me from across the room.
"Have you not been eating?" he asks as he walks over.
I shake my head, still staring at the wall.
"You're deteriorating, Eden," he says, more forcefully now. "I can see it—what the others can't."
"Who cares?" I mumble.
"Everyone!" he yells.
I stand up abruptly and walk over to my desk. Dragging the chair out, I sink into it, arms resting on the surface as I slump forward. Mitch follows, moving behind me silently. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, resting his chin on me.
I sigh. Not leaning into him, but not pulling away either.
"I don't know what's going on with you," he whispers, "but if Phil and Darren are right... I hope you feel better soon."
"Yeah," I mutter.
He moves to the front, kneeling so we're face to face. His hands come up to gently hold my cheeks, thumbs brushing softly. He smiles faintly.
"Not really the time to say this, but... I love you. You're an amazing guy, Pup."
I stare at him blankly. He leans forward and kisses me.
And in that moment… something shifts. For a second, I feel like me again. Just a glimpse.
He leans back slightly, still holding my face in his hands, and smiles at me.
"I don't want to lose you to whatever it is you're becoming. But even if I do, I'll always love you."
A smile tugs weakly at the corner of my mouth.
Then the door slams open.
My dad stands there, stunned.
Mitch jumps back and straightens up so fast it's like he's been electrocuted.
"For the love of God!" Dad barks and slams the door shut again.
I groan and lower my head, forehead hitting the desk with a dull thud.
Just when I thought things couldn't get worse.
"Should we go and talk to him?" Mitch suggests hesitantly.
"Leave it. I haven't spoken to him all week anyway," I admit.
I push myself up from the chair and glance at the mirror across the room. My reflection is still missing.
But strangely, it doesn't bother me this time.
Millie's words echo in my mind—it depends on me how I see my reflection.
I grab my pumps from beside the desk and sit back down to put them on.
"From your dad's reaction... I take it he didn't know about us?" Mitch asks, sitting on the edge of my bed.
"What do you think?" I ask as I tighten my laces.
"Judging by the way he looked like he'd been smacked in the face by reality? Yeah. I'm guessing he didn't know about either."
"Yup," I say as I stand.
Mitch looks down at the floor like he has something else on his mind.
"I've been told to return to work now that my investigation is over," he says.
I turn to him, my chest tightening. I thought maybe—with me being off—we could spend some time together. I need him. I don't want to be alone.
"I thought it was a month?" I ask.
"Well, with staff being down, I've been called back to help out."
"What about us? What about me?" I ask, more desperate than I want to sound.
He chuckles and stands, walking over.
"Nothing's going to happen to us. And you—you need rest. I'll visit you after work, okay?"
I sit back on my bed, sighing. The truth is, I'm scared to be alone. I know if I go to work... people will die. But I don't want to sit in this house either—especially not with my dad ignoring me.
"Okay... I'll stay home and rest," I agree, lying back against the mattress.
Mitch laughs lightly, climbing onto the bed beside me. He leans over and kisses my cheek.
"Everything's going to be okay," he whispers.
I manage a weak smile as I sit up again. Mitch follows me down the stairs toward the front door. I head into the kitchen, hoping to catch Millie before my dad shows up again. Mitch waits in the hallway, leaning against the wall near the door.
Millie's sitting in her wheelchair at the table.
"Where's Dad?" I ask as I walk over.
"In the shed. Why?" she replies.
"Good," I mutter. "What else can I do that you know of?"
"What do you mean?" she asks.
"Power-wise. Can I do anything cool or fun?"
"You haven't figured out how to shapeshift yet?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
My eyes widen. "Wait—seriously? Thanks!"
I grin and turn to go, just as Mitch calls from the hallway, "I'm heading to work now, Pup. I'll message you throughout the day."
Before I can reply, he leans in from the hall and kisses my cheek one last time before slipping out the door and shutting it behind him.
I glance toward the kitchen, then back to the stairs. A flicker of something hopeful stirs inside me.
I run up to my room and close the door. Standing in front of the mirror, I take a deep breath.
No reflection. Not yet.
I close my eyes and focus—not just on seeing something, but on seeing myself. Willing myself back into view.
Slowly, I open my eyes.
There I am.
"Here goes nothing," I say.
I close them again and imagine a new face, a new form—something different, something that isn't me.
A strange warmth surges through my limbs. My skin prickles, stretches. The sensation fades.
I open my eyes.
"It worked," I whisper with awe.
I don't look like me anymore. I don't even sound like me.
A slow grin spreads across my face.
Now... time to get to the theme park. And find Mitch.