The house is now quiet when Vanessa leaves for the umpteenth time in anger. Somehow, someway, you managed to make her angry again while you were trying to help her. You don't know what you're doing wrong, because this wouldn't be the first nor the last time your girlfriend left. You felt utterly useless.

You're too deep in self-loathing to even notice the gentle sound of mechanical tics growing closer and closer to you while you were against the sink, trying to figure why you're always screwing up. You don't fight against Charlotte, or now the marionette, she knows what to say and how to play with your mind so it could be in her posession.

It's already hours after the argument and Vanessa enters your house again, feeling guilty for snapping at you when the only thing you were trying to do was to comfort her. You only know a fraction of what happened in Vanessa's past and she barely talks about it, so you didn't know anything about her trauma, just Freddy's and how her father is a psychopath.

She drops her keys in the bowl, calling your name when she doesn't hear the news that you always put on the tv around this time. She walks around, until she enters the kitchen and finds you making a recipe, very weird. Not because she doesn't think you're bad at it. But because you've admitted it multiple times that you could barely warm something up without it burning.

"Vanessa, you're back. I'm just making us cookies."

You say, your voice still sweet as always, but there's a slight strain to it, like someone was using your body to communicate and do it's bidding. Mixing whatever was in your bowl.

"Oh, shouldn't the news be on the tv? You always put that on around this time."

Vanessa asked, one brow raising in slight suspicion, the sudden change was way too alarming. You looked confused, before it turned back into calmness.

"I didn't feel like watching the news today. And you're right, Vanessa. I should just...let go and try to understand you more. So sit! Then I'll be able to hear all your frustrations."

You answer, now talking so calmly about you being convinced that you were the one in the wrong. It almost looks normal, but it's still like someone's pulling the strings of your body. Your voice is a little bit too high, your smile is a little too big and you don't have that nervous laugh anymore. That's way too suspicious.

You lean over the counter to grab the pack of flour, but the reflective surface betrays you. In the reflects, you look tired and are crying, the black tears on your cheeks like the marionette, Vanessa sees just a glimps of your tired reflective form before you grab the pack of flour and put it in the bowl, not leaning over the counter anymore and mixing with a big smile on your face.

"Since when did you learn how to bake?"

She points out, sitting just opposite of you of the counter. Her voice calm, but there is a hint of suspicion in it, like she didn't know if she needed to trust the woman infront of her, or the mirror who tried to let her see the real person infront of her.