With slow footsteps, she walked up to the door that had never been closed to her before. Daria reached out and pushed, but the portal would not budge. After a quick search of her backpack, she applied a ruler to the crack and wiggled. The lock popped and the door swung inward.
The interior was inky darkness, the room itself possessed of an ominous cold. Daria's foot falls were halting, reluctant; fear began to nibble at the edges of her mind.
From the far corner of the room came a whisper, the voice familiar if barely recognizable.
"Hello, Daria."
"Jane?"
Moving faster, Daria found her friend crouching on a bed of old newspaper, entirely nude. Daria faltered, still several feet away.
"I wanted to talk to you," Daria started, uneasy for more reasons than one. "About Tom..."
"It's okay now," Jane crooned, and started to turn. "You tried to take him away..."
Daria recoiled in horror when finally she caught sight of her friend's mangled face. The left half of Jane's face had been set with a likeness of Tom, his mouth drawn downward in an effigy of horror. The mask had been set in place with clumsy stitches done in white kitchen string. Blood had trickled down Jane's bare skin, leaving macabre streaks that blended with the darkness. Jane stood, and Daria was struck immobile with shock when she saw Tom laying on the nest of paper, half his face cut away.
"But now we'll be together forever," Jane sang, and at that moment her hand closed on Daria's arm with a vice-like grip.
