Something Counterfeit's Dead

IV

CW: mention of a bloodied body, panic attack

Oh, not again.

Agatha looks around at the painfully familiar living room she called home for three years and wants nothing more than to scream. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She tries a couple more times, walking in circles around the room. When she passes the turned-off TV, she pauses, looking at her reflection. Agnes is staring back at her, her hair carefully put together and her flowery dress hugging her sides like a second skin. Before Agatha can break the TV to get rid of her, her body isn’t hers anymore. She can’t move, she can’t speak, she can’t scream – Agnes won’t scream inside of her own home. There’s nothing to worry about inside her home – she is safe. Everything is perfect. She is happy.

Agnes, wearing her flowery dress, sits on the couch as she does every night and turns on the TV to watch the detective show she’s been watching for the past three months. It’s almost like some sort of ritual – she does it every day, at the same time, eating and drinking the same things, her hair and dress always the same.

So, imagine Agnes’ surprise when, instead of her favorite detective show, she sees someone’s front yard. And not just someone’s – Mrs. Hart’s front yard. Agnes would recognize those azaleas anywhere.

Agnes can’t help her natural curiosity and leans forward, wondering if she will be able to hear what they’re saying. The strangeness of the situation isn’t registering in her brain – after all, it’s not the first time something like this happened, right? She’s seen this all before somewhere. Or did the whole TV change into a model from another decade? She isn’t sure.

Mrs. Hart appears, walking next to a teen boy carrying her groceries. Agnes pales. That’s not possible. She blinks a couple of times, convinced it’s some sort of illusion, but the picture stays the same – Mrs. Hart walking and talking to Nicholas. He’s older and taller, but it undoubtedly is him.

Misty-eyed, Agnes watches as Nicholas lets go of the groceries before Mrs. Hart’s front door. Mrs. Hart clasps her hands together, a huge smile on her face.

“Oh, thank you so much, young man,” she says, her voice almost breaking.

Nichoals’ face gets a slight reddish undertone, as always, when someone says something he isn’t sure how to respond to. “No problem, Mrs. Hart.”

Mrs. Hart winces as if her name burned her, but she quickly recovers, her lips twisting into a smile again. “I don’t have anyone to help me with those anymore, so I appreciate every help I can get.”

Nicholas frowns. “What about your husband?”

Mrs. Hart’s whole face freezes as if someone has pressed pause. But one blink, and it’s gone. Mrs. Hart’s smile vanishes, and she looks down at her hands, absentmindedly reaching for the ring on her left hand. “He died,” she says as if she just remembered.

Nicholas feels bad, Agnes can see it clear as day. He starts nervously pulling at the edges of his hoodie (why is he wearing a hoodie? Agnes briefly wonders before the thought vanishes from her mind) and lightly shifts weight from one foot to another. At last, he reaches out and gently squeezes Mrs. Hart’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay. I need to learn to say it out loud,” Mrs. Hart says, her tone firmer. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve, and Agnes can see how much Nicholas’ hand on her shoulder means to her – she wonders how long it’s been since somebody offered her a comforting touch.

Mrs. Hart looks back up, and Agnes wants to scream in terror (but she doesn’t). Mrs. Hart’s face is swollen as if a whole colony of bees had stung her at once. Her eyes are almost invisible, and her breathing gets noticeably more raggedy.