When she had finally crawled her way to the desk, Charlie reached up and grabbed for the top of it, then pulled herself up, feigning a struggle. She winced as she put weight on her feet, continuing to act weaker than she actually was: in reality she was nearly back to her full strength. She leaned heavily on the desk as if for support, putting one hand directly on the heavy stone paperweight.

“We both know he won’t be able to re-create you, either.” Elizabeth was near. “And the real question would be, would we really want him to? Besides …” Elizabeth approached Charlie from behind, moving faster. “I think I hate you more than I love him.” She raised her hand in attack and Charlie spun around, swinging the rock in a single motion. There was a thunderous crack as it slammed into Elizabeth’s face, and Charlie fell back with the shock, dropping the paperweight. She hit the ground hard, cradling her hand.

Elizabeth staggered backward, holding her hand over her face, but she could not conceal the damage without her illusion. One entire side of her gleaming white jaw had been knocked off her face, revealing the wires beneath. She cocked her head to the side for a moment, as if running a system check; Charlie didn’t wait for the result. She leaped to her feet, pushing past Elizabeth as she ran back the way she’d come. Charlie heard Elizabeth moving, and dove for the hall closet, pulling it shut tight behind her.

“I know it may sound very childish of me,” Elizabeth cried; her voice sounded like she was still at the end of the hall. “But if he doesn’t want me; then he won’t get you, either.”

The footsteps drew closer, and Charlie looked one way and another, hoping desperately for a place to hide in the small closet. Then suddenly, as she turned completely around, she saw a familiar thing. You. The faceless robot wielding its knife, the mannequin, the construct that her father had built for one purpose, to end his life.

“Your dad thought you were so special, your memory was just too precious to let go of.”

The blank face was almost peaceful in the dark. It had been built for one thing; it had completed its duty, and had remained in silence ever since, standing as a memorial to pain, and to loss.

The closet door moved slightly as Elizabeth gripped the knob; Charlie could see her shadow under the door. She grabbed at the clothing hanging behind her, old coats and dresses, and pulled them forward, concealing the construct as best she could. “You can’t overpower me,” Elizabeth whispered. “You aren’t like me,” she added with relish. Charlie waited in front of the blank-faced creature, not hiding. Gently, Elizabeth pulled the door open.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Charlie whispered to Elizabeth.