𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒻𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝒫o𝓇𝒸𝑒𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃

4. Unforgiveness

August jolts awake and quickly looks around, searching for Imogen. He isn't in her bedroom anymore, however, and is instead sitting in a darkened room in front of a large vanity mirror with candles placed in front of him. His arms are restrained to the chair and he is no longer wearing his Prussian-blue coat with the ordinary clothes he arrived in. 

Instead, he is adorned in a pastel-blue lace-up shirt with a ruffled white collar and a black brooch to match his charcoal breeches and pumps. He sighs with relief a little as he gazes in the mirror and sees he has not been transformed into a doll, but it does still raise questions for why Mr. Vogel hasn't done it yet. He has been captured already, what more is there? 

Suddenly, August sees two hands come out of the shadows behind him and grasp both his shoulders firmly in the mirror and gasps, turning to face the person behind him. 

It is Mr Vogel, as August had feared, but there is something different about him. He no longer takes up the appearance of a doll...but a human being.

"Ah, there you are. See? This is not so bad, is it? You are one step to perfection," Mr Vogel says with sheer delight and pride, gazing at August's new appearance in the mirror. August gazes at himself also, not being able to even mutter a word in response. It's as if his vocal cords have been removed from his throat. 

"You must be ecstatic to see your final form, are you not? Well, wait no longer, my boy."

Mr Vogel then takes a small, crooked knife out from his pocket and pulls August's head back so that his neck is more exposed. He begins to panic and thrash in the chair, desperately wanting to scream as the knife is placed upon his throat.

"Please try not to move too much, dear child. Just close your eyes and count to 10."

Mr Vogel has too much of a firm grip on August and he is unable to break free, hopelessly staring up at the ceiling in shadows with tears falling down his face.

".ᴎuꙅ ɘʜƚ ǫᴎiɘɘꙅ ᴎo qu ɘviᎮ .ɘᴎoƚꙅ ᴎi ƚɘꙅ ꙅi ɘƚɒᎸ ɿuoY"

August suddenly hears a voice somewhere in the room but is unable to turn his head to see who it is. This voice, however, sounds nothing like Mr Vogel. The voice sounds profound and indescribable yet sinister and chilling, almost like the whisper of death before you are lowered into your grave.

".woᴎ ɘm oƚ sgᴎolɘd ǫᴎiɘd ɘɿiƚᴎɘ bᴎɒ |uoꙅ ɿuoY .uoʏ ɿoᎸ ƚᎸɘ| ǫᴎiʜƚoᴎ ꙅi ɘɿɘʜT .ɿɘƚꙅiꙅ ɿuoʏ oƚ oᎮ"

August closes his eyes in anticipation, praying that his demise will be fast and painless. 

And with one quick SLASH...

----------

August's eyes snap open and he heaves in and out, coughing and hacking droplets of blood. He takes a few shaky breaths, feeling the sweat traverse down his face, as he looks up at what is in front of him. 

In front of August, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a candle in between them, is Imogen. She just stares at August with a dull glare, no hint of life in her at all. August looks down at his arms and sees that they are tied very tightly to one of Imogen's bed posters with thick rope, feeling the burns he must have gotten while unconscious. He looks back at Imogen, still glaring into his soul, with the realization and recollection of what had just occurred. 

"You looked like you were having a nightmare. You still look really afraid," Imogen states, her expression not changing in the slightest.

"I...Imogen, I-," August tries to say, but Imogen puts a hand up to stop him.