What do you do when you catch your daughter, in the middle of the night, speaking with a complete stranger that has somehow snuck into her room? Gun. Threat. Hug daughter. Check all locks. Complain to motel management about lack of security. Have daughter sleep in bedroom with wife whilst husband stays in lounge to watch motel rooms safely?

Morning is for irrational fear. Worry that your child is acting too… well normal. She is lively. Expresses herself. Possible mania. She hasn’t skipped her pills. You know. Her medical regime is carefully maintained and monitored. Time to do what any parent not in complete control of the situation does best.

Fumble and make it worse.

----------------------------------------

The next few days were a blur for Eva. Not a pleasant blur. Or busy blur. Or emotional blur. Literal blur. Spent sleepy and drugged. She had argued vehemently against taking any further medication. Luther. Christina. Neither knew her body had been purged. Simply parents afraid that their daughter was reacting in unfamiliar ways. Eventually browbeaten into submission. At 11 your parents are still your world. Intimidation through overbearing works. Sad. But true. And Eva took the medication. This meant a new start. A new acclimatisation. Her mind plunged yet again into fog, fugue and fear.

Meanwhile information circulates with the local authorities. It was dark so the description is limited. But the sudden appearance then disappearance can only be one thing. Outsider. Prejudice in the Town is stoked. An unknown breaking into children’s rooms for kidnapping or worse. Imagine how humans react. Who doesn’t love mob mentality?

Segue. I will again emphasise that Luther and Christina are not bad people. Just fearful parents out of their depth. They’ll get better. Eventually. Baby steps. And a few scares.

There’s a Sadist in this story too. Remember? More than a few scares.

The rest of the Town. Less redeeming qualities. They get what they deserve.

Shogo did check in on Eva. But other matters kept her busy. She would watch. Not act though. Not yet. Still busy with other matters. Fear is important. But dangerous. Strike fear into children. Not adults. They are too stupid. Misinterpret things. Blame Others. Find an easy target.

This is why Shogo does not waste time with adults. Far too limited.

She does have responsibility however. A week later the thing of shadows, tentacles and terror returns.

Mostly to terrorise her ward.

----------------------------------------

Warmth. Wrapped around her ankle. Eva cracked her eyes. It was night. Sense and Sensibility playing in the background. Alan Rickman. You’re permitted to go weak at the knees for that voice. Even Lovecraftian entities that lack calcium joints do. The room was sharper than it had been in… Eva couldn’t recall. Hadn’t she just been sitting here talking to her hallucination. No. That wasn’t dreamed up. Luther had seen it too. Seen her too. A kidnapper. Would-be-abuser. Worse. Now just a fever dream. Something lost to medication and sleep.

Those not-yellow eyes stared into her own. Eva had enough self-awareness to roll her face into the pillow and scream. Suppress the sound. It still carried. Lights burst. Luther came strolling in, wrench often used on the RV now sitting on one shoulder. Here we can see a common trait shared between father and daughter. The same black rings under their eyes when stressed.

Luther’s intent gaze scanned the room. Nothing out of place. He looked under the bed just to be sure. Nothing there either.

“You okay, little Candesia?”

Eva popped her head out from the pillow. Empty room. No eyes. Another hallucination. The drugs weren’t working yet. Maybe everything she had been told was the hallucination. Her way of coping with a stranger in the room. There was no way any of that actually happened. That conversation. Her experiences between the two of them. Maybe why she wasn’t kidnapped. The kidnapper realised her prey was mad. Too much trouble to handle.

“I’m. Okay. Sorry, Daddy.”

Daddy was baby-talk for Eva. She reverted to it only when under serious stress, fatigue or both. Luther walked over, ran an affectionate finger down Eva’s cheek and gently encouraged her eyes to close.

“Sleep, Eva. You’ll feel better in the morning. There’s nothing here.”

A litany Luther had uttered a substantial number of nights over the past five years. Most of the time he was wrong. But he couldn’t see the things Eva saw. And right now, she couldn’t see anything either. Nothing in the room. Luther walked to the door, flicked off the lights and closed the door behind him. Not-yellow eyes glowered in the corner of the room.

Luther and Eva were wrong tonight.

Eva pulled the bedsheets up to her nose. It wasn’t real. She’d just hallucinated the experience. The kidnapper had been there but they had fled. A crazy woman wanting to do horrific things to children. Eva opened her mouth to scream. There was nothing in her lungs. A weak creak. A whimper. Couldn’t this ever just end? Her conversation was a delusion. She’d never spoken to anyone. Her own psychotic, desperate, weak attempt to make a friend and eat ice cream.

The warmth returned. Gripped Eva’s ankle firmly. A jolt, like a dazzle of lightning through the flesh, Eva’s vision sparkling. The taste of metal in her mouth. Then something rubbery stroking her sole. Eva was better prepared this time. Pulled a pillow from behind her head and pressed it against her face. A few weak snickers and chuckles. Enough for the teasing tickle to register. It ended, the ankle released and Eva rolling to the side of the bed.

Very slowly the pillow was pulled away. Not-yellow eyes hovered centimetres from Eva’s own. The squeak was fortunately muffled by the hastily returned pillow.

“Do you have to do that?” Eva whispered into the pillow.

“Yes.”

It was the same off-tune voice. That same strange cadence and diction. Intonation from a throat that had never spoken English. Or any other language. Eva couldn’t recall much of the previous week. The medication had taken that away from her. But she could recall the night she had met the strange woman in the shadows. She could recall their odd conversation. Recall the woman’s assurances that, though Eva was mad, it wasn’t the mad everyone else thought of.

“Shogo.”

The inky darkness congealed into the form of a pale woman in anachronistic, but very fashionable, garb. She tipped her hood back and gave Eva the barest of smiles.

“You. Are still ticklish.”

It took Eva a moment to process the statement. Then understood. The girl sat up on her bed. Tawny eyes unimpressed.

“You do not have to do that.”

“Laughter increases the release of endorphins, which relieve stress and pain. I believed my course of action would assist after your difficult week.”

Eva tapped her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Press X to doubt. Her previous encounter with Shogo had given her a brief insight into how the creature thought, if such a delusion could be entertained. If nothing else, shallow attempt at insight.

“I know that look. You enjoy me struggling in painless agony.”

Sadist. Guilty as charged. Shogo managed a one-shoulder shrug. Ghost of ghostly smile. Eva doesn’t care that she’s a little mad at Shogo. That look in those not-yellow eyes. She liked that look. No. She loved it. Someone who did what they did and was confident in it. Fearless. Unapologetic.

Shogo stood and then motioned for Eva to get up. The girl followed, crawling along her bed to the foot. Dangling legs over the edge, Eva kicked them and watched… well now that her mind is operating once again more clearly, her only friend she had. Eva had enough presence of mind to accept and embrace that fact. Yes. Her only friend was either a crazy murderer, a hallucination that could interfere with her at a physical level which, according to the hallucination, nearly impossible. Take psychiatric advice from your psychosis. That always goes well. Or this thing was… whatever she was. Eva wasn’t quite sure. Shogo called herself madness and a monster. The girl wanted some answers. Curiosity drives many things. She kept her voice at barely a whisper.

“Why are you here?”

“I was busy. Now I am not. Do you like what you wear?”

Press X to swerve off-topic. Eva frowned. Was this loaded?

“I… I like my pyjamas. I like purple and pink.”

“Liar.”

The little girl’s mouth slowly opened. Her parents said many things over the years. Questioned and doubted much of Eva’s experiences. Everything that was and not there. It didn’t crawl out from the sink. It didn’t whisper in her ear what naughty things her parents had said the previous night. It didn’t tell her the combination to the gun safe. But never had they been so cold or clinical in denouncing her. One word and Shogo destroyed the girl.

The thing is, Shogo was absolutely right. Eva was lying. What little girl doesn’t like pink or purple? Or unicorns or Transformers because they were cool again. Or Zelda, Breath of the Wild?

This little girl. Eva looked down at her hands. Clenched them tight. Eyes closed nearly as tight. Breath sharp. It wasn’t fair. How does someone with one word cut through flesh, blood, bone and to the soul?

“I don’t mind purple,” Eva managed. “It’s a nice colour and goes with most things. I like my dark trainers, my overalls and the Zelda wristwatch Dad got for me for Christmas.”

“Lies. All of them.”

It wasn’t fair. How. How did this thing she had spoken to for barely an hour in the last week get to say that? And how did she get so emotional about something so silly? It was just colours and clothes. It made no rational sense.

Gloved fingers touched the tip of Eva’s chin. She opened her eyes. Shogo stared into her. Not past her. Not at her. Into. Deep. Assessing. Observing. Eva was her whole world, every last fragment and photon of attention.

“I am not saying you are wrong or should feel guilt for perpetuating those lies. Just be honest. I am not someone you should appease.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Cold on her cheeks. Twin streaks of cool. Eva realised they were each a tear. How absurd. She got wound up by something so innocuous.

“Orbitofrontal Cortex unfamiliar with novel serotonin secretions and dopamine receptors not bound to clozapine. You will experience realistic emotional responses.”

Shogo ran gloves fingers over either cheek, carefully removing the tears and looking at her hands.

“What you are feeling is normal. It is this lack of familiarity with normality that overwhelms you. Your life will be filled with colour now. Colour you cannot describe. Colour from beyond the stars.”

It sounded insane. Which was Shogo. Eva managed a smile.

“You removed the medication from me again, didn’t you?”

“And will continue to do so.”

“My dad is going to love you.”

“He will fear me. Believe that I am a threat to everything and everyone he loves.”

“Are you?”

“I will protect you.”

“And everything and everyone else?”

Shogo’s blank expression was enough. Eva wondered if she should be horrified at the notation. These were her parents that Shogo was so callously talking about.

Nope.

This isn’t a black mark against Eva’s personality and choices. Those come later. I assure you. This is a result of someone who has barely existed for the past five years. With even their parents their emotional connections have been stunted if not entirely excised. She trusted and felt no great connection to anyone. Except this shadowy, tentacled and beautiful thing that lingered in her room for the briefest of moments. Perhaps that was its intent. To enchant her with its heart stopping beauty, alien mindset and mystical powers.

Mission successful. Eva admitted that much.

“Do you like what you wear?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Shogo nodded once. Resolve. Eva thought she could read this emotion from the borderline expressionless woman. Shogo stood up, took a step back and stretched out gloved hands, clenched them together. When she spread them a pale silk camisole hung between fingers. Eva managed to supress her response. A snort mostly in the nose was all that survived. Shogo tipped her head to one side.

“If my dad walked into the room right now, with you holding underwear out to me, he would flip his lid.”

“Can you please put it on?”

Seconds. More seconds. Something howled in the distance. Eva finally found her mental balance. She shuddered to think how long it took.

“Pardon?” she managed.

“Put this on.”

“Do you know how creepy that sounds?”

Shogo tipped her head to the other side. Lack of understanding. Interspecies ignorance. Maybe interdimensional. The Editor will get back to you on that one. Eva leant forward and snatched the offered clothing. Sighed. This was madness. What was she even doing? Exactly what a mad person did. Have delusional conversations with figments and experience events that did not exist.

“Turn around,” she grizzled.

Shogo’s turn.

“Pardon?”

“I’m not getting changed in front of you. Now turn around.”

It took immense self-control for Eva not to raise her voice above the whisper she had been using up until now. Clearly the two needed to have a conversation on social boundaries and mores. Shogo did not argue. The monster was at least courteous. Turned and stood facing the door. With her dignity intact Eva shucked off her pyjama top and examined the camisole. Silk. Probably. The material was incredibly soft. Possibly extruded by a creature from this reality. No silkworms were harmed in creation of this product.

“How regularly do you eat?”

“What do you mean?” Eva replied as she examined the exquisite piece of clothing.

“You appear rather emaciated for someone your age. Weight gain is often a side-effect of antipsychotic medications. Even with appetite-suppression side-effects this should factor into your physiology. Therefore, my concern is you are intentionally eating on an irregular basis.”

Shogo was not wrong. Eva was, well politely you would say scrawny for her age, impolitely you would say skin and bones. Her ribs did stick out too much, there was little meat to her biceps, no curve on her stomach.

Wait. How the hell—

“—How the hell do you know that?”

Eva’s eyes raced around the room. No mirror. She could never sleep in a room with mirrors. No reflections. She checked Shogo’s neck. Sometimes they had extra eyes. Hidden in secretive places.

“I can sense everything within this room.”

“By sense you mean…”

“By your reckoning, I can ‘see’ you.”

Hurled object. Current properties, +1 smiting pillow of an indignant girl. Bypasses all known forms of damage reduction. The sub-liminal projectile struck Shogo’s head and knocked her forward a step.

Take note of that. It’s important later.

Eva clamped one hand against her chest and felt her face burn.

“Your arm is no hindrance to my sight.”

Hurled object, take 2. Current properties, +5 smiting pillow of righteous wrath. Able to transcend reality in delivering pillowy justice. The super-liminal projectile flew with unerring accuracy and struck the same place on the head. Another step forward. No noise, mind you. This one is rather quiet on her feet.

With her dignity no longer intact, Eva changed into the camisole. It felt wonderful on her skin. Soft and cool. Then she realised it was a little too… breezy at the front. That moment’s realisation came with a change. The fabric shivered and rippled before adjusting to perfectly fit the girl.

Even someone as scrawny as Eva.

“You can turn around now,” Eva muttered in a very grouchy voice.

She wasn’t going to forgive her friend. Even for such a beautiful gift. Even if it felt so nice. Even if it would change size to match her. Even if it would fit when she was 21. Nope. No forgiveness. Not tonight. Maybe next week. Shogo better show up more than once a week. Eva would go back into insanity if she could only appear infrequently.

Shogo looked her ward up and down. Nodded in approval.

“Good.”

Tentacles extruded from Shogo’s cuffs and collected the two pillows. The creature handed them over to Eva. A sigh and wordless nod of thanks for that small courtesy.

Shogo knelt, scooped up Eva’s hands in her gloved own and looked into her. Eva’s face burnt again. Why would she feel so self-conscious all of a sudden? The attention this monster gave her was humbling. What did mad little me deserve to be noticed by something this grand, this powerful, this alien?

“We will go in small stages. It is not necessary for you to achieve absolute success in one night. It is, in truth, better to moderate steps. Allow for better proprioceptive self-actualisation through psychosomatic projection upon polymorphic metamaterials.”

“Pardon?”

“Maslow. Base line of hierarchy. If physiological needs are not fulfilled then further progress cannot be made.”

Eva plucked at the camisole and sighed. Her friend was going off on those strangely insightful tangents. How she knew so much about psychology, it wasn’t a question Eva felt comfortable about asking just yet. Clarification. Would ask. Shogo would answer truthfully too. That was something Eva knew. Shogo couldn’t lie. Or wouldn’t.

“Explain in terms an 11-year-old can understand.”

“Why? You are more intelligent and capable than 11. Merely stunted and emotionally crippled. Intellectually you possess enough faculties to grasp my meaning.”

Rip your hands away. Just pull them away from Shogo’s. Break that gaze. You can do it. Be angry at her. She doesn’t have any right to be truthful. So damned truthful. No tears this time. Just. Just breathe.

“Health, personal security, emotional security and financial security. Do you possess any of these?”

“Mmm.”

“Social belonging: Family, Friendship, Intimacy. Do you possess any of these?”

“Mmm.”

“Do I bother with self-esteem?”

Eva was seeing the trend.

“I am the key and the gate. You must open the door and step through. The clothing will start at the very base and through it you will reach the pinnacle of transcendence.”

“A little camisole?”

Eva failed at disguising her snark. Intentionally. Shogo didn’t mind. There was that spark of wit she had tasted in the girl’s dreams. A taste she hungered for.

“Close your eyes.”

Eva did as ordered. Though not without added cheek.

“I’m in a dark room, wearing unfamiliar undergarments, eyes closed and holding a strangers’ hands.”

Something cool swiped across Eva’s sole. Enough to elicit a choked down giggle. Eyes wide open. Shogo looking right into her. Right eyebrow arched a fraction. Teacher telling off a student in class for playing up. The blush returned; Eva squirmy where she sat before closing her eyes again.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Apology accepted. Do you like to wear t-shirts?”

“Not really.”

“Truthful. What would you like to wear?”

Sea of images. More a swamp. Morass of memories. Too much time on the road spent reading. Nights under the covers trying not to see the things beating silently on the windows of the RV. TV playing in the background and drowning out the soundless howls. Classical. Antiquated. Anachronistic.

What Shogo wore.

“White blouse. High collar. Narrow sleeves, cuffs buttonless and flaring wide over the wrist.

“Then why aren’t you wearing it?”

“Mum and Dad would never let me.”

“Are they in control of this moment?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Are they in this very room instructing you not to wear attire of your choosing?”

“No”

Very pouty response. Here was Eva the not-emotionally mature 11-year-old.

“Reach out, grasp the key and open the door.”

“That makes no sense.”

“How many times did the psychiatrists say that ‘at’ you?”

Low blow. Natural 20. Crit confirmed for max emotional damage. No counter possible. The monster was on mark. Eva hated that nobody had ever listened to her. Had no mouth and screamed for five years for someone to just believe. The rebuttal had its desired effect. Eva pictured what she wanted. ‘Reached’ out and took hold of the key. Inserted it into the lock. The hardest part was turning it. How could Eva describe it in terms that the sane would understand.

No. They wouldn’t. She turned the tumblers on reality, shifted form, function and purpose about, so that when the concept was observed it moulded to her own observational bias. When the final mental tumbler slipped into place, Eva could hear a strange piping tune playing in the background. Lost Woods? No. Couldn’t be.

Knismesis. Feathery sensation over shoulders, biceps, forearms, wrists. An awe-struck girl of 11 let her eyes slowly open. She wore the blouse. Just as imagined. It fit perfectly. It suited her perfectly. This WAS Eva. One small little piece of her now brought from dream into reality. The little girl felt a trill of joy. Proper frisson. Happy. In this moment, here and now, she was happy. Hold back the tears. She didn’t want her vision blurred as this memory was fixed in mind and held pristine ‘til the stars burned cold and dead.

Curious thought bubbles up. Eva looks at the hands grasping hers. Gloved. The mad monsters with no sense of proprietary or decency was holding her hands and showing a child how to reshape her own life, one little article of clothing at a time.

Gloves. Eva wore delicate, feminine black leather gloves. Those gloved hands slid out of Shogo’s. Clenched and extended. Padded down the blouse to confirm that it wasn’t a delusion. Though tactile and visual delusions were quite common. Padded down enough to enjoy what might have been a delusion. A very pleasant, confidence boosting and aesthetic delusion.

“The gloves are a nice touch.”

Shogo’s voice, almost, almost surprised. The Teacher approving of their previously mischievous student demonstrating aptitude in a test. The woman got to her feet and smoothed down her dress. Reached out and tapped the blouse once. Everything was back to camisole.

“Small steps. Once the image has been refined and defined it is fixed. Each night will be another small step.”

Eva grabbed her pyjama top and pulled it over the camisole. This was something she was not explaining to her parents.

“Will you visit more often?”

“As I can manage.”

Not a definitive answer. Not a commitment. Unsurprising. Eva pressed hand against heart.

“Was that. Was I performing magic?”

“No. Yes. Resonance. The magic you wear is me.”

“You are never having a conversation with Dad.”

“It is magic for you to mould and shape. You mind creates the outcome when you exert your perception upon the fundament.”

“You are the key and gate, right? In the future. Can I use magic? My own magic?”

Shogo nodded.

“If you wish. Your mind is already broken. You have good aptitude.”