Eliza is the perfect daughter. She gets perfect grades and never stays out past her curfew, but shortly after her fifteenth birthday, Eliza's behavior becomes erratic. She begins to do things without any memory of what happened. Another personality forms: Jezebel

"Don't forget to clean out your closet this weekend, Eliza."

Eliza rose from the bed where she had been doing her math homework. Cleaning out the closet was boring, but so was studying. 

She opened the closet door and began moving things around. When she found something that was old or falling apart she threw it into a pile in the corner of her room. A pair of shoes, some ripped stockings, and a black trench coat. A trench coat? When had she bought that?

In the midst of all her brightly colored clothing she came across more items that seemed out of place: fishnet armwarmers, a black skirt with lace fringe, pants, shirts, socks, and none of it was hers. 

"Mom, can you come here a second?"

Eliza listened as her mother jogged up the stairs and down the hall towards Eliza's bedroom. The door opened and her face framed by mousy brown hair came into view.


"Who's clothes are these? I don't remember buying any of this."

Stacey Blackwell gave her daughter a puzzled look before replying.

"You bought these two weeks ago when you went shopping. You went by yourself and came home with all this stuff. I haven't ever seen you wear any of it."

Eliza didn't remember going shopping two weeks ago. In fact, she didn't remember anything that had happened two weeks ago. She went to school, but that blurred together on its own anyway. After school she did homework. After she did homework? 


After finishing her homework, Eliza had absolutely no idea what she had done. She hadn't gone on the computer, or gone out, or done anything at all. Shopping? No. Eliza hadn't gone shopping since the beginning of the school year when she had bought new shoes and jeans.  She couldn't just tell her mother that she had lost a whole week though, so she merely agreed and made a joke about being overly stressed about exams.

I didn't go shopping. I don't even like this gothic clothing. I would never buy it. Freaky outcast kids wear this sort of thing.

Wanna call me a freaky outcast one more time?

Eliza was startled from her reverie by a very distinct and clear voice in her head, but as soon as it had come, it was gone again.

Even though she hated the strange clothes she had bought, something made Eliza put them back in the closet.

Or someone...


The End

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