Tossing and turning all night, startled awake by the alarm, drenched in sweat… yeah, she was responding to change well. 

Rolling from her bed, Kat staggered into her bathroom and took a bleary look at herself. She wasn’t exactly the captain of industry she imagined herself to be when she was a child. Back then, she had looked up to her aunt as a mythological figure. That was before Sophie had taken her in, proving her love but ultimately revealing the trick; perfection took a lot of work. 

She rubbed her dry eyes. 

And it just isn’t worth it. 

Kat splashed her face and sighed. She had to at least try. If she had to meet new people today, she was going to pretend to have her shit together. 

A long shower later and a now lobster-red Kat made her way back to her bedroom, dripping water across the hardwood and dirty clothes along her path. She needed something sensible to wear, not too flashy, but maybe a little cute. She hadn’t met any of the current staff, but maybe there was someone there worth impressing. 

She considered her options, but the only man she knew would be there was Bradley. Kat stifled a gag and picked out a plain white tee and a sheer red blouse to go over it. She knew she had to wear black pants and could have died when she discovered how loose they were. It was no mystery why she’d lost more weight. Her budget barely accounted for food. Maybe with the new cash, she could finally put on a bit of weight.   

She’d never had a sweet tooth, but maybe she could start eating candy while she worked. Soph told her she’d have a lot of time to kill. 

She bobbed her head back and forth, brush working away, trying in vain to straighten her hair. 

Maybe I can chew gum? I could be a gum person! 

Back to the mirror again. Not bad. 

She didn’t look tired anymore, and even though she hadn’t put her face on yet, she could see her ideal self somewhere in there. No captain of industry, but it was only a gas station. 

A bit of midday breakfast, and then she’d take the time to apply some makeup. 

More wading through clothes and back across the two-bedroom apartment and into her galley kitchen. Opening the fridge revealed a dire scene of student poverty. Half a bottle of recently expired milk, a tub of margarine, a bottle of ketchup, and a loaf of plain white bread. There could be a fifth item, assuming the smell wasn’t just the fridge dying and was instead something rotting mysteriously somewhere. Not a cornucopia so much as a vision of culinary disinterest. Or a prison for food who’d earned solitary confinement. 

Kat laughed to herself and pulled out the margarine and the bread. She got to work spreading the yellow smear on a couple slices before nibbling away. It wasn’t toast, but she’d have to use the toaster for that. 

When you were only eating because you had to, it hardly mattered what the food tasted like. Besides, Soph said she could grab a slice of pizza or a hot dog later at the store. 

Back again to the bathroom, once more over the clothes, but this time they were kicked into a pile with a knowing nod. She’d throw them in the laundry when she got back the next morning. The trick was building a routine. 

Another look in the mirror. Too many freckles. Too pale. Kat sighed as she pulled her makeup bag off a shelf beside the mirror. She hadn’t had reason to use it for months, and it had been tidied away in her last manic cleaning session. 

She delicately applied foundation, evening out her skin tone and hiding most of the freckles. She held her breath while drawing the winged eyeliner that it had taken years to perfect, before finishing it off with mascara. Just a quick swipe of lip gloss and the mask would be complete.  

Now if only she had the ritual items, something to sacrifice, a different sort of mirror… something she could use to conjure a boy into her new life. 

Shaking her head at her own reflection, she was suddenly overtaken with the silliness of the moment and found herself doubled over in a fit of giggles.  

From back in the kitchen, her phone vibrated loudly on the granite countertop. Further kicking and her clothes into an untidy mess in one corner, she ventured back to pick it up. Her smile faded as she saw the screen.  

Unknown number. 

I can just let it ring out. If it’s important, they’ll leave a voicemail and if it’s her… 

She knew she shouldn’t pick up. But like every other time, hope won over fear. She raised the phone to her face. 

“Hello?” 

There was no response on the other end, beyond a surprising amount of static. 

She could be anywhere, really. She might be living up-island now for all Kat knew. 

“Hello?” Kat said again, not in annoyance but in growing apprehension. 

Still nothing. The static continued to drone on, reaching into her skull and pulling at the delicate string controlling her shaky self-esteem.

“Mom, please…just talk to me.” 

Static. Like a thousand insects threatening to bore their way into her ear. Like a million needles rattling down a pipe aimed straight at her heart. 

“I don’t…I mean… We could…” Kat choked on the words, each one an aching reminder of what she couldn’t say. Because she knew if she did, she would never hear it returned. A reminder that, last time, she’d laughed in Kat’s face when she tried. 

“Please, Mom, scream if you want. I just want to hear your voice.” 

Nothing. 

Kat’s chest tightened with each rapid half-breath. Throat aching, makeup running, she stood there, waiting. 

The line went dead. 

Kat listened to the dial tone for a moment before setting down the phone. She was once again alone in her apartment. 

How could she keep doing this to her? Every time, she… Every time Kat nearly had her life together… 

She wiped the tears away, smearing both her face and the sleeve of her shirt. 

Every time…I don’t get to focus on anything except… 

How can she keep doing this to me? 

But Kat shook her head. She knew why her mother kept torturing her.  

Because it’s all my fault.