[ He says her name and it’s the perfect in between of “get the hell out” and Mary knowing she’s in for a good time. She continues to grin her bow-like grin, content to just watch him stew in his own quiet misery. Not all of it had been accomplished by her hand, but enough of it had. He can’t banish her from his mirror, not while teenage girls push each other into bathrooms and treat her existence like a party game; it’s power, it’s heady, she could get drunk off of it if she wished to. ]

Oh, don’t be like that. I just wanted to look into your big brown eyes once more.

[ Her eyebrows dip, as an appropriate prelude to the shift her face takes. More animalistic, more amused. ]

Not the ones you’re wearing right now. You were— how shall I put this. More interesting way back when. You inspired so many nightmares.

[ Not as many as her, of course. He’s the nightmare of children, but she’s everyone’s nightmare. Mary likes it that way. ]