#eyyyy

She looks down at the mess she had made. Papers and pencils scattered about. What caught her eye was an old photo.

Her and Viola. First day of college. She slowly picks up the small print, examining it between her shaking hands. TRY TO FORGET scrawled across the back.

She felt her eyes start to sting.

She's alone. There's nobody who can help her.

Bobbie is right.

She's going to die alone out here.

She sat in silence for who knows how long. Letting that knowledge sink in. Infect every inch of her fabric, creep into every crevice of her stuffing. She was going to die.

But it wouldn't be alone.

She shakes her head, making up her mind. She starts to dig through the house, trying to gather anything she could find. Something that might put that bastard down. She had gasoline. She might be able to fill that water gun with it. Holding it again after... She left feels odd.

She grabs all the seam rippers from the drawers. They might be medical instruments, but they can certainly hurt if used correctly. She stuffs them into her hair, the same she would her hair sticks.

She grabbed an old Zippo lighter and some bottles. If all else fails, then a simple Molotov cocktail should suffice. Might even blind them. She felt a bit of dark glee at that thought.

She gathers everything in front of the portal, looking up at its ominous shape. Only one thing left to do.

She leaves a piece of paper behind on the desk, before yanking down the lever to the huge machine as harshly as she can. The portal roars to life, filling the room with a harsh blue light. She could feel the power whistling past her head, as if pulling her in.

She listens.

The portal breaks down behind the small puppet. Leaving nothing but a spark of its past power. Now, all trace there was of Cypress is the portal. Is her home. And her note.

"To whomever may find this page, I am already gone. There's little chance I will return. Do not bother looking for me, if you please. I wouldn't want to waste your time.

Consider this my last wish. I request all of my discoveries go to my father, Cameron Cypress, and my sister, Sharmie Cypress. I don't want my mother to benefit from a single word of my research, or a single stroke of my art. She won't be getting a cent from me.

My home, and all of my remaining belongings, shall go to my twin, Xiana.

Xiana, if this note somehow finds you... I miss you. And I apologize I wouldn't be able to speak to you before I go. Know that even if I never forgave you... You will always be my sister. My twin. My other half.

I hope you'll be able to forgive me someday."

- Dupreziana Cypress