More contest stuff-ness.

The theme for this one is "Urban Legends," up to the writer's interpretation. Which I had to take advantage of. X3; Enjoy.

--

The walls here are layered with tiles, with old and yellowed caulking in the cracks between. Faded flower prints lie atop the porcelain. The lighting is dim and if anything, Gwen thinks, it's the atmosphere that does this. She'd do this fine in daylight. Maybe she already had - the thought of daylight in the scenario seemed that natural. She could have done it thousands of times over, surely. Only now -

"Well?"

Gwen sees the girl beside her in the mirror. The unnatural layers and spikes of ruffled and sprayed red hair -- the oversized shirt that hangs like a ghost gone grey over her bony frame -- the creeping curve of a do-you-dare sort of smile -- Janet.

"Scared?"

Gwen sees herself beside Janet in the mirror. Her hair, not as vivid, not as complex; long, dark, of a single length -- how scared she looks, staring back at herself with eyes that widen on contact -- lips curved fearfully inward -- the pajama set that feels too snug, that looks too prim, that's bound to get wrinkled before morning. She adjusts her posture, criticizing the slight slouch of her shoulders. She sighs.

"No, just," her words are muffled, mumbled, "mildly frightened, that's all."

Mildly frightened is pushing it. Repressing it. She’s a step away from hyperventilating, a full journey away from the very idea of calm. Her voice shakes. This isn’t normal, isn’t rational, isn’t anything to fear, but it’s her. And with her, it is.

So before she can fold out her thoughts and decide otherwise, she says the words in a barely audible blur.

"One."

Again.

"Two."

The room's too dark and the leak of the tap's too ominous. Shoulders stiffen, eyes widen. Nails, even when perfectly rounded and supposedly dull, cut into palms as sweat breaks out and breaths grow sharp. Gwen unclenches, sets her hands on the sink's edge. Breathes. Dreams. Fey folk and winged creeping-crawlies, the stuff of legends and novels grinning arcane, animalistic smiles at the corners of her vision whichever way her gaze flickers. Blink and it's gone. Blink and it was never there.

Janet's a reflected blur of daring and impatience. "Once more."

Once more.

"Bloody Mary."